


Sunny Spring Morning

by eleinuin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bad Jokes, Beta Bucky Barnes, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega Verse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn with Feelings, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, World War II, a tag a spoiler, plot I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26320411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleinuin/pseuds/eleinuin
Summary: “You can't tell anyone! Do you hear me?! Promise me!”The war is in Europe, so Buck is going away. Steve doesn't even know if he will see him again.He can do this for him. He’s going to do it because these may be his last words.His last will.So Steve Grant Rogers bites his tongue, swallows his words and swears to him.He swears that he will never say a word without his permission. That he will never betray his trust. That he’s with him to the end of the line, in Germany or in Brooklyn, and his secret is safe with him.He swears to God.He swears by his mother.Until the end of the line
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan & Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	1. Stevie

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Spring and sunny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826451) by [eleinuin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleinuin/pseuds/eleinuin). 



> This is a translation of Spring and Sunny (which I have renamed because I never liked the original title)  
> Although the original fic is finished and has 21 chapters and 160,000 words, I’m slow to translate so I will cut chapters to be able to publish more often.  
> As you can see, English is not my first language. There will be mistakes and I hope you can forgive me, as well as correct me.  
> If you want to know more or want to practice with Spanish, you can also read the original fic.  
> Thank you for reading!

Buck lazily made circles of smoke, sitting on Steve's window sill. The apartment was on a raised floor and the sun was still shining brightly.

Summer was coming to an end but it was still hot enough to break a sweat at noon. But Steve didn't need the sun to sweat. He slept peacefully in his bed, enjoying the light breeze that cooled his soggy white skin. The sheet covered only the essentials, with the skin hypersensitive from heat and the hot day.

It was a sight to see his skin glow in the sun. He could blind anyone, the bastard.

Music was playing on the radio. A honeyed female voice sang a love story, accompanied by a good saxophone. The notes drifted to the windowsill where Buck was standing, his bare feet following the rhythm.

Buck was worried about Steve. He was concerned about his health and also his well-being.

There was little he could do about his health other than help him take his medicines. His mother, Sarah Rogers, a nurse by profession, was the expert on this subject. Steve was very, very stubborn, and sometimes he played tough because "he was fine and didn't need them." Sometimes he earned a slap on the back of the neck from his mother. And since Buck saw that it worked, he also used that ancient technique that they called the "Rogerslap”

When talking about a "Rogerslap", the three people involved knew what they were talking about. Steve knew he was going to get slapped on the back of the neck for being stubborn. Steve's mother knew that his son had earned a slap for being stubborn, and James Buchanan Barnes had Mrs. Rogers' blessing to slap his son for stubbornness.

Sometimes the stars align and good things like that happen.

Mrs. Rogers was also the one who explained to Buck that his son's body had made changes toward fertility, and what it meant to be an omega man.

And there it is, life sucks sometimes.

The change was, in itself, a kick in the balls for any of “the winners." The alphas became aggressive bossies, and the omegas became complacent bitches.

Did you want to be in the military? Well, if you're omega, fuck you

Have you ever dreamed of becoming a teacher? Well, if you're an alpha, fuck you too.

Steve was the bravest bastard Buck had ever known. The little lion, he called him sarcastically. Not because he couldn't bite! In fact, he would get more so than with those little toy fists he has.

Perhaps they are not so useful to deal punches, but no one can deny that they are artist's hands. Anyone who has seen a few drawings of Steve knows that the kid is talented.

But with that resolution, with that morality and courage, who could imagine that at 17, life would give him a setback like that? An omega?

Buck was watching Steve's face. He had always been handsome. Small, frail, and bony, but damn handsome. Those lashes were the envy of many girls.

Those eyes were blue like the sky.

And now it's time to pray that no alpha hunts him down the road to make him his against his will. Yes, it is ugly and is punishable by law, but these things happen.

Shitty life.

Buck is a year older, and each spring that passes he's more likely to be a beta, thank goodness. Hopefully, Steve will settle for him, although that is unlikely.

With bad luck, if he also changes to Alpha, he will undoubtedly be able to protect Steve for a lifetime, even if he turns into a mindless who only thinks with his crotch.

With very bad luck, Steve will fall in love with an alpha asshole and he will lose him forever.

Buck worries about losing Steve. He is aware of having nothing but eyes for him. He is also concerned about gossip about them.

The entire neighborhood has known that they are knife and fork for almost 10 years. They have grown up together. They have gone to school together. Buck has stayed at the Rogers' and Steve at the Barnes'. Or as his twin sister Becca says, they are ass and shit. That brat also deserves some other Rogerslap…

But now they are of an age, and Steve has become an omega. If they continue to maintain that attitude, people might think wrong.

It's not that they're wrong...

Yes, it's been a few months since Buck decided to go after the girls. He's found they love naughty baddies, and Buck knows a lot about that. He smiles crookedly, says some gallantry with the face of clearly wanting to say something else, and they fall at his feet. Let the whole neighborhood see him chasing skirts! Let the neighbors worry about the honor of their daughters! That way they won't have time to think about the afternoons he spends at his best friend's house.

Steve opens his eyes and stretches, sighing. Buck takes the opportunity to take one last drag on his cigar. He knows what is coming.

"Bucky?" Steve sits up slightly, looking for him where he always is, at the window smoking.

“Blind nose, you haven't noticed that the room now stinks of tobacco” he pouts.

Yes, ok. Messing with his nose was perhaps Steve's second favorite subject. Buck suffered from anosmia. Mrs. Rogers told him, she knows what she's talking about. Anosmia, which cannot distinguish odors of any kind.

Isn’t he lucky?

Fortunately, time and experience have given him the tools to socially replace his nose. He has a privileged sight and an enviable ear, and he has learned to detect through micro-expressions and other body language clues, the mood of people. Especially to detect alphas, which are the most insufferable when they feel challenged

“Would Mr. Rogers like me to air out his room?” Buck asks, smiling as he walks into the bedroom. He does not button his shirt; Mrs. Rogers is not coming back early from the hospital.

“Since you're going to the kitchen, get me some water, please” Steve rubs his bleary eyes.

“Of course, blonde! Some champagne, too?” Buck asks with humor. He knows Steve resents being treated like a damsel.

But isn't it the funniest thing in the world to mess with the little lion? Buck smiles to himself as he opens the kitchen window.

“You're an idiot, Bucky” Steve throws a cushion at him as soon as Buck walks through the door with a glass of water and a full jug. Steve's aim sucks. Probably with that pitch the cat on the third-floor neighbor was more at risk than Buck himself.

He sits next to him on the bed, filling his glass as he looks at Steve's torso. Not a single hair on his chest, and practically none on his arms or legs. Beads of sweat run down the sternum. The nipples are slightly more swollen and darker, like the lips. Buck is embarrassed to be able to figure out this detail because it means that he has memorized his friend's body over the years. He never realized all the attention he was giving him until the omega topic exploded in his face.

"See something you like, Bucky?" Steve asks him, a crooked smile on his face. Buck rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Of course, Stevie. I am looking forward to knowing what bone you will stick today in my liver while I hug you. Could it be the shoulder? Elbow? ”Steve laughs, almost choking on the water.

“I like to do the introductions before, you know Stevie? So it's not so embarrassing when I get a bruise" Bucky changes the tone of voice to imitate his mother "And how did you get that bruise, you say? Oh nothing, I knew Steve's stubborncleidomastoid intimately. A very formal and responsible bone, you know? A trustworthy bone”

Steve laughs out loud. Buck is sure that those little lungs do not fit all the air he is expelling. Yet another mystery for the future.

"I'm pretty sure that stubborncleidomastoid bone isn't called that, Bucky" he says, wiping the drops of water from his mouth.

“Oh, maybe, you haven't actually introduced it to me yet. For me, as if you call it Betty” Buck adds smiling, looking down because if he keeps looking at Steve's bright eyes, he's going to kiss him. Instead, he reaches up to his neck and licks his neck gland in a casual gesture that Steve allows. It tastes of vanilla and toasted caramel.

Buck smacks his lips. Despite having no sense of smell, his palate is very sensitive. He can "smell" the pheromones of others through his tongue, but it is obviously quite invasive and unseemly. He only dares to do it with family, and Steve is part of his family by now.

"You're more honeyed than usual" Buck whispers in his ear, getting goosebumps on his skin.

Steve puts his hand on his knee shyly "Lie down with me," he asks. Buck takes off his shirt leisurely. He knows what Steve needs.

He lies down beside him, leaving a space in his shoulder. Steve walks over and curls into Buck. Rests his head on his arm and inhales long and deep his neck and armpits. He runs his arm across his bare torso too, seeking contact with the skin. He presses his own slimy, sticky torso against Buck's.

“Your smell has changed again, deaf nose. You used to smell like fresh apples, but now you smell like baked apples. It's very smooth, but I can feel it. It suits you well” He also passes his leg over Buck's hips. Between the sheets, you can see the only garment Steve is wearing. A horrible brief that must be one size too large.

Buck closes his eyes, trying to relax. "Your imaginations. At home, they would have realized”

Buck hugs Steve with his whole body, leaving weight in the hug, immobilizing him slightly with it. His shoulders are bony, fragile, so he's very careful not to harm him. He rests his chin on Steve's blond head as he lightly licks his neck, sighing.

Buck pats him on the chest. "Oh, Mr. shoulder blade, you hasn't stuck anywhere in a while! Yes, of course, no problem that you embed yourself in my clavicle. The bruise can be blue and green? You are so kind…” Steve snorted, half laughing.

"You're lucky that all that ingenuity can make up for the potato you have for nose, Bucky" Steve feels happy in the arms of his friend. Relaxed and calm despite the erection. There was nothing he could do about it. "Nah ... You're an easy audience," Buck comments casually as he runs his fingers through Steve's hair.

Buck is happy too. He has been with Steve for most of his life. If Steve needs his help, he will be there for him. For whatever he needs. And if he keeps licking his neck, he's going to have a serious problem between his pants again. But he can't say he's relaxed.

"Are you nervous?" Steve asks him. Buck smiles, uneasy, eyes fleeing. Here they are, about to lose their virginity and he asks if he's nervous...

"A little" Bucky acknowledges, smiling crookedly. "Are you sure about this?" Bucky is afraid of hurting him, of not being good enough, and that Steve will rethink it halfway. He is much more nervous than he appears. Buck ... well, he's not an alpha. His cock is a good size but the alphas are in another league.

Fuck, he's intimidated, yeah. He is afraid of not living up to an omega, his expectations for the first time.

“Absolutely sure. You're the only one I want to be with, here and now” Steve answers with aplomb. "You know where everything is, right?" He asks, looking into his eyes. He doesn't even blink.

Bucky nods. Reusable condom, erotic toys and knot simulator. Everything handy and clean.

He runs his nose across Buck's neck and torso again, licking, nibbling here and there in no fixed pattern.

"Stroke me," Steve whispers. Buck immediately moves his hands and begins a circular motion on his back; wide, long and slow movements, sharing and spreading his subtle smell of apples with the glands of the wrists. He shifts the weight so Steve can lie on his torso while stroking him. Notices how he gets goosebumps in some spots, which is funny because he has practically no hair that can protect him from anything.

Steve practically lays on top of Buck, making the most of the exposed skin. He hides his face in the neck and sighs again with pleasure. He subconsciously moves his hips to ease the position of his cock, which is already rock-solid, but the movement is not lost on Buck.

"Are you coming to me with demands?" Bucky says slyly. Steve isn't even embarrassed.

“Sorry, if you didn't have a dumb nose you would know what I need a long time ago” he says sarcastically while looking into his eyes. Buck marvels at the lewd look the blonde is looking at him, so he decides to take advantage of the movement behind his back that he was doing with his hands to direct them to Steve's ass and abruptly separate his buttocks.

Steve lets out an exclamation of surprise and pleasure as he grasps Buck's shoulders with his bony hands. When he opens his eyes again, Buck is watching him while smirking.

Steve rolls his eyes as he reels and decides to sit over Buck to help him pull down his pants and boxers with panache. Thank goodness he's already removed his socks. There is nothing more antierotic than a naked man in socks...

Buck is not big. That is to say, compared to Steve everyone is big, of course. Buck is well proportioned. He’s not too high. He’s not stick-thin although he has little body fat. He was always a good athlete and has well-defined muscles, and hair on his chest and a little on his belly. Obviously he also has it in his arms and legs, not like Steve who has bald and smooth skin.

Buck has a firm erection. His member is long and hard, much larger than his own. He runs his thumb over the damp glans, and although the caress is not rough, it moves in a spasm and Buck closes his eyes in a wave of pleasure. The parted mouth, biting his lip, is absolutely sensual.

Some views worthy of admiration.

Steve pulls his face close to Buck by crawling over him and straddling him. He sits up slightly, bearing the weight on his elbows, moving closer to Steve. Steve's eyes are blue but Buck's look almost gray, as if they have a touch of the ocean in a storm. Buck looks at him like he's made of glass, the idiot.

Gently Steve brings his face closer and rubs his cheeks against Buck's in a gesture of confidence and familiarity. His body moves on its own, and even though he knows Buck can't smell his pheromones, he needs to put them down. To pair. To trust. And Buck caresses his back with his face and cheeks, his eyes closed and the most tender smile.

The one he reserves just for Steve, even if Buck doesn't realize it.

And thank goodness he has shaved! Because even though he doesn't have his father's sanding beard, in two days he pricks like a porcupine, the bastard. But Buck follows Mrs. Rogers' advice to the letter, and it makes his heart flutter.

Notices how Buck's hands curl around his small torso and invite him to press against his, sitting one on top of the other. Steve plays with Buck's flexible lips. He deepens the kiss, savoring the tobacco on Buck's tongue. He idly wonders what he tasted like before he started smoking, but more and more he’s losing his sense of reality for a more pressing one. His sense of touch multiplies, it happens when his arousal increases, and he stops paying attention to general details. Cuddled around Buck's neck, he wiggles against his, running his fingers over his scalp and enjoying the sensation. Buck rubs his face down Steve's chest, white and dull. He delicately bites into one of his nipple, causing a brief contraction of his small body.

Buck notices how Steve gradually abandons himself in urgent need of his heat. His breathing becomes lighter and faster and he begins to stain his underwear. His hands are not still, gently scratching his back, pressing against him. Buck runs his tongue back over the pheromone gland on his neck, so close to his ear as his hands gently massage the puny torso, paying special attention to the nipples. The toasted caramel flavor is much stronger now, and the breath is gasping and wet.

He slowly pushes Steve back on the bed until he has him lying down and is between his legs, taking the opportunity to remove the horrible rag that covers his crotch, but Steve's hands trying to grope him do not help at all. He can barely contain himself from laying him on the bed and eating him right there.

Once stripped of the offending piece of cloth, he launches himself into Steve's abdomen kissing and licking, vulnerable in his mouth, noticing how he trembles with each breath. His fingers go to Stevie's pink lips, who doesn't hesitate to lick and suck, and tease his tongue, salivating, panting.

Instead, Buck's lips go to Stevie's smooth glans, which is already slimy with precum. Stevie's penis is proportionate for its size: small, slim but fully erect. He sinks his mouth down to the base of the cock getting a surprised moan. Buck takes the opportunity to pry his fingers out of his prey and directs them to the wet ring of muscles. Slowly letting go of the prey between his teeth, he nibbles tenderly on the inside of the thigh, licking the pheromone gland in his groin. He still pays attention to Stevie's penis.

The first two fingers enter easily, so insert the third as well. He immediately gets a series of whimpers and Steve spreads his legs a little wider, writhing in wave after wave of pleasure. The blush covers his shoulders, making his eyes look even bluer. Buck knows what he needs. Buck will give him anything he wants.

Buck's cock is hard as a rock of so much stimulation and without proper attention. Time to put the condom on before Steve makes him do something crazy.

His fingers spread the rubber perfectly on his sore cock. Ever since Stevie asked him to share his next heat with him, he has been preparing. Ms. Rogers wasn't subtle about it either. As a nurse she explained all the false myths that teenagers are fooled by: the first time you can get pregnant; coitus interruptus doesn’t work; and you definitely don't want to have an unsatisfied, pissed off omega.

And the condom gave it to him herself.

Stevie's hands are on his head, teasing through his hair, seeking the contact, the weight, the warmth. He pulls away just enough to line up against Stevie's opening, pressing delicately, watching for any sign of pain or discomfort. He himself feels nothing but a delicious sensation of pressure and heat that makes him want to push and shove as if his life depended on it.

But Stevie's face is nothing more than the expression of delight, repeatedly blinking at the feeling of fullness and warmth. Damn it, those eyelashes should be illegal.

Steve moved to Bucky's tune, with each new thrust he moaned cheekily, sighing, arousing him even more, grabbing him hard by the shoulders and pushing him so that he was on top of him, crushing him.

“More! Give it to me, fill me” Steve pleaded with each new thrust, contorting himself, causing a faster, wilder rhythm.

Both overexcited breaths, panting on each other's lips. Biting, licking, tempting. Buck's hands kept stroking and moving Steve's hips, increasing the distance from which he could strike, increasing friction and pleasure.

"Bucky ..." Stevie whimpered, on the verge of exploding with pleasure, practically out of breath. "Come with me!" His eyes were tightly closed, focused on his pleasure.

Bucky gave him everything he had with a strangled gasp in one last thrust. Stevie spilled onto his abdomen, moaning and contorting with each wave of the intense orgasm he enjoyed as an omega, gripping Bucky tightly, hugging him with his last energy. Vanilla and caramel sizzled on Bucky's palate.

Buck flopped down next to Steve, sweaty and wheezing, allowing the blond to breathe as he played with his hair and stroked his cheeks, spreading his scent. He was happy, complete. Steve moved to hug him, latch onto him like a limpet and tuck his head under Buck's chin, which he took advantage of to kiss him on the crown. Bucky hugged him, holding him tight against his body, absently running his fingers down his back.

"Oh, was that funny?" Steve asks mockingly, grinning as he poked his nose over Bucky's glands, enjoying the mild smell of baked apples.

“Sorry, it was very ... intense” Bucky answers, smiling foolishly. Steve moves away from him, putting his hand on his face and pushing “Well, I haven't heard you complain before...”

"Wow, you may not know, but I have heroically saved the situation, Stevie" Buck smirks mischievously, with a suspicious gleam in those gray eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Steve asks casually while smiling. He's not dumb. Buck looks at him only with devotion, even if he wants to hide it. He looks for the damp cloth they have left handy while Buck takes the opportunity to remove the condom. He's going to have to wash it and it's not the most pleasant thing he can think of, but it does the job wonderfully and he's not going to complain.

“Well, for Christmas I will give you some underpants that do not cause impotence, you know. I had to give everything to fulfill as a man...” Buck goes to the bathroom, but not before the little lion accurately throws a cushion over his head.

"My mother bought them for me, you idiot!" Made of special fabric so they don't irritate the skin! - Steve yells as he removes the towel from the bed so as not to get the sheets too dirty. When Buck returns, he hugs Steve from behind and kisses the top of his head.

“Don't complain, I've been a champion and you haven't even needed the inflatable knot to come” He puts a glass of water in front of him as he moves without any shame around the apartment as God brought him into the world “Get that thing that do you call a nose away from me, you idiot ...- he jokingly pushes him once he has the glass in his hands.

“Hey, if you want me to go, you just have to put that horrible thing you call underwear back on, pal” Bucky laughs while he also pours himself a glass of water.

“Don't worry, for the next fuck I'll look for someone less sybarite with my underwear” Steve smiles, they both know he’s bragging.

“Easy, pal” Bucky smiles playfully “If you have a flag at home, it's solved”

Steve looks at him blankly.

“Flag in the face and all for the motherland” Bucky laughs out loud while Steve, with a fake offended face, rolls up the towel until he gets a forceful whip with which to punish him.

Laughter, screams, or moans do not reach strange ears. This is their privacy, their world, and they will still have a blissful time before being struck by the illness and death of Sarah Rogers.

They strengthen their bond as friends, as brothers, as lovers.

And Bucky never sees those boxers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Spanish, there is a saying: bandera en la cara y todo por la patria ‘flag in the face and everything for the motherland’ It means that one would do anything in the name of the flag, but also that the flag can cover up anything ugly (like Steve's face)  
> Well, I hope you liked the presentation. I promise there are plot, sex, drama, and angst. And more important, love.


	2. Bucky

Autumn began with fury.

The leaves of the trees were already hovering on the ground, carried by the small streams of water that emptied into the manholes. It had been raining for a week, damn it, and the mornings had turned cold quickly.

Steve came home with his feet soaked again, tired, and his fingers so numb from the cold that he could barely hit the key in the lock. He could only hope that yesterday's shoes had already dried.

As soon as he entered the small apartment he now shared with Buck, he realized something was wrong. It was dark and quiet, as usual, but a strange smell of sour apples and musk hung in the air.

Steve became alert. Someone was home, and he wasn't sure who, but that someone was scared. He silently placed the keys on the hall cabinet and walked forward to the rickety baseball bat that Buck always kept near the door "in case anyone has a bad idea to follow you home, Stevie!" Buck's phrase comes to his mind, full of security and humor.

Oh, Lord...

His brain gives him the information, even if he doesn't want to believe it. Because it can’t be…

He doesn't even touch the bat, quickly approaching his old room that Buck now occupies. Steve has a knot in his stomach and his heart is in a fist.

Steve can't believe it's true.

The room is just as he left it this morning. Bed made, closet closed, clothes folded... Buck had been raised by Mrs. Barnes as the firstborn and therefore had to help raise his siblings.

Bucky's mother slapped his laziness out of him.

Steve left the room, desperately searching for his friend, calling him. He was already heading towards his own room, the one that had been his parents, when he saw the shoes left in the hall and pieces of clothing thrown in any way in front of the bathroom.

He opened the door and...

He didn't even have the light on.

"Bucky!" He yelled in alarm. He turned on the light to see the pitiful state his friend was in, sitting and curled up on the bathroom floor, leaning his back against the large bowl. He was wearing only his boxer shorts and was wrapped in Steve's sheet. His head was resting on his knees, embraced.

He was shivering and sweating, a soft blush covering his chest to his ears. And the smell of sour apples and sweat was very powerful, mixed with the bitterness of fear and anxiety.

"Bucky ?!" Quickly Steve knelt before him, hugging him as tightly as his skinny little body left him; giving it his all, desperate, his eyes pricking with the tears that wanted to come out.

Buck was still shaking. His voice was barely a whisper, unsure "I can't be an omega, Stevie, I can't..." his voice trailed off in a hoarse cry. Tears spilled down Steve's cheeks. He was speechless.

Reality hit both of them hard.

Steve focused on helping his friend. His own heart could wait.

"Buck, get up, you're going to freeze here," Steve whispered softly, trying to convince him by grabbing him by the arms. Buck looked up, gray eyes flooding with tears.

"No," he whispered, hiding his face between his knees again. He was still shivering and Steve didn't know if it was from cold or from heat, but it was certain that he had a fever.

“Bucky, please, let me help you. Come on, pal, I'll take care of you...” Steve's tone was pleading. He was always the one who received the care, the attention and the told off. Buck was the one in control of everything. Always looking out for his well-being and also making things very clear when was necessary.

But if something characterized Steve it was his determination.

“Come on pal, you have to get up, please Buck... I'm going to catch a cold here, my feet are soaked” Emotional blackmail. He wasn't proud but it was effective. Steve would feel bad about it later, he thought as he helped Buck off the ground. His skin burned but his hands were cold.

Steve put Buck's arm over his shoulder and caught him around the waist, helping him walk into Steve's room. His bed was bigger and they shared it often.

"Don't treat me like I'm glass, you idiot," Buck grumbled, leaving only the weight of his own arm.

They entered Steve's room, which was a lot messier than Buck's filled with notebooks, pencils, and paintbrushes. He helped him sit on the bed without sheets. The blue blankets were stacked haphazardly on the floor.

“Lie face down" Steve asked him, but Buck's face was pure uncertainty. His eyes, bright with fever and crying, didn't seem to even want to look at him.

"Hey, buddy, take it easy, I got you, okay?" Steve stepped into the fleeting space of his gaze with determination as he took his frozen hands. "Come on, trust me, Buck; It's me, it's Stevie..." He practically begged him until he got a slight nod and Buck stretched awkwardly on the bed. Steve knew from experience that his body would feel weak and shaky.

And then he noticed Bucky's boxer shorts, dampened by the lubrication his body produced, preparing him for mating.

The little, the tiny spark of hope that remained in Steve's heart was extinguished.

Buck was an omega.

Steve swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears coming back. He went in search of the sheets that had been left in the bathroom, he supposed he tried to cover himself with it to stop smelling omega in heat. Instinctively the omega also do it to cover themselves with the smells of the closest family, or of the partner; wrap himself in love.

Steve would be flattered if it weren't for the excruciating fear that ran down his spine. He thanked God for Buck's blind nose because now Steve himself was leaving an anguished omega trail capable of competing with Buck's.

He ran back to the room with the sheets. Buck didn't even look at him, hugging the pillow tightly.

He gently spread the yellowish sheet over him. Normally he would not have done it because omega skin becomes very sensitive and cotton fabric is rough, but Buck probably had been without clothes for hours sitting on the icy white stoneware floor and getting cold.

On top of the sheet he spread the fluffiest blanket he had in the closet, a cream-colored blanket with a simple brown border, but one that had a heavenly feel. Steve liked having him around in heat; he hoped Bucky had the same tastes as him.

Steve removed his clothes quickly, throwing them unceremoniously at his feet. When he was in his boxers he crawled under the covers, rolling onto his side to hug Buck.

He turned his head to look into his eyes in what Steve thought was the saddest look he had ever seen. Guilt and shame seemed to mix in his beautiful eyes in a look of regret.

"I'm sorry, Stevie..." He closed his eyes tightly, tears sliding down his cheeks. Steve caressed his cheek lovingly and carefully, a lump in his throat. Bucky felt guilty. For God's sake, this man had never let him down.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and caught his hand under the pillow, squeezing, letting him know he was there. “Easy pal. Don't worry, okay? “ Steve's nose was also red with the urge to cry. He crawled into Buky's warm body until he practically covered him entirely from the left side. With his size, he couldn't hope for much more either.

Steve's hands roamed Bucky's back and shoulders in slow, deliberate movements, feeling the warm, moist skin. He was too hot even to be in heat and the sweat in a short time began to accumulate in tiny drops that his hand was responsible for spreading. Steve was very close to Buck's face, his hands restless on his body, providing him with reassurance and comfort.

Steve kissed his forehead and rubbed his cheeks against his face to spread his own scent in an unconscious gesture to reassure him, getting Bucky to breathe deeply and slowly, his lids half closed. He hadn't had the chills for a time now.

Bucky extended his hand to reach Stevie's cheek, caressing him tenderly, playing with his thick pink lips, noting the grooves of the dry and cracked areas and the elasticity they had. The air Stevie exhaled was warm and moist on his fingers. Now that his hands were warm, he also noticed the difference in temperature with Steve's skin, which was cooler. The contrast was nice.

Bucky blinked heavily, the tension leaving him, giving way to a pleasant feeling of exhaustion. "I'm so sorry..." he said in a whisper. He closed his eyes, bringing Steve's hand to his lips and touching it to his own cheek. He sighed as he relaxed more and more under the delicate massage, finally drifting into sleep.

Steve spent another hour gently stroking his back and shoulders, his mind locked in the repetitive motion without allowing himself to think of anything. It wasn't until Bucky was fast asleep that Steve didn't begin to absorb the implications of this new reality.

He pressed even closer to Bucky.

They had never talked about it, about the future.

From both.

Despite being an omega, Steve was never interested in going to find an alpha. He had enough problems trying to do the right thing with 45 kilos of determination, he didn't need an overprotective partner to stop him.

And Buck had always been by his side teasing him with his wits, supporting him when he needed it, or saving his ass when he had bitten off more than he could handle. Sometimes he thought he liked to spur him on.

And during the heat... well, being alone was hard, but when Buck started sharing his skin and warmth with him, it felt... delicious. That had brought them even closer, knowing the intimacy of their bodies, of their weaknesses.

The greatness of their hearts.

Steve wanted to be with Buck until the end of the line, wherever it was.

To the rest, that damn dumb nose was nothing more than a Casanova with a gift of the gab. Bucky was a hit with the girls. Hell, Buck was successful with everyone. He was handsome, intelligent, and a good athlete. He was cunning, polite, and had a sense of humor.

Buck had whoever he wanted in his arms.

But at the end of the day? At the end of the day, he was with Steve.

If he had been a beta... or if he had presented as an alpha, Buck could have claimed him as his own. It was selfish of him and he knew it. He couldn't attribute such a great responsibility to Bucky. He couldn't ask for more than he had already given him all these years.

Why?

Why now, in his early twenties, did his hormones reach sexual maturity as an omega?

With a heavy heart, he got out of bed trying not to wake him. He would need some things shortly, and Steve would be helpful.

It was 4 in the morning when Steve woke up to a sound, a little moan. He didn't move, alert, listening to what was happening. The smell of fear and anxiety had disappeared. Buck smelled like sour applesauce again, but something else was with him.

The cloying smell of lust.

Buck was on his back trying awkwardly to masturbate. He was making some groans and sighs, and Steve guessed he was still asleep. Probably an erotic dream.

He sighed. Between Buck's low moans and movements, he was getting hard too.

"Bucky?" Steve put a hand on his friend's chest. His breath jumped.

"Stevie?" He asked, unsure.

"How are you feeling, pal?" Steve started stroking Buck's torso, fiddling with the hair. Touch was very important in heat. "You just had a wet dream." Then he regretted saying it. Bucky has known what wet dreams are since he was 10 years old...

He bit his lip, mortified "God, I'm sorry Stevie, I'm going to my bed..." Steve didn't give him time to get up, pushing him down.

“No, no! You have not understood me!” he said alarmed. He did not want his friend to get out of bed for the world, much less to think he was upset!

"I wanted to say..." he cleared his throat "I don't know if you know that now your body... your body is going to ask you for other things, Bucky. Don't even think that you're going to be able to come without touching yourself properly” Steve looks at him. The lights are off, but the street lights are bright enough to clearly define Buck's features.

And Buck is embarrassed.

"I... I never..." Steve shuts him down with a soft kiss on the lips, rubbing his own cheeks against him.

"I'll teach you if you want" he whispers in his ear as he strokes Buck's face with his bony hands. The shadow of the beard has already appeared, making his skin slightly rough. Buck rests his forehead against Steve's and sighs, putting an arm over him.

Bucky drew his head closer until his lips brushed the pheromone gland on his collarbone, running his tongue casually. The bitter taste of anxiety was annoying on his tongue, making the vanilla and caramel, Stevie's trademark taste, have a hint of toasted caramel.

Stevie was scared too.

"’ Til the end of the line?" Buck says with a crooked smile.

Buck kisses him, shy, awkward. He has never done anything awkwardly in his life, but now his confidence seems to have slipped through his fingers. Steve returns the kiss fiercely. He doesn't want to feel a kiss like that again. “Jerk...”

Steve sits up a bit to cover more of Buck's body and be mobile. He collects his thoughts. As an omega, he knows what are the most important things to him, the most significant differences between before and after.

Steve caresses it gracefully on the sides with light touches “During heat, your sensitivity and sense of touch will increase. You will have periods of lucidity and others in which you will be so horny that you will not be able to think more than about sex. The hornier you are, the more sensitivity you will have and also the more you will seek skin-to-skin contact” Steve has not stopped caressing him since he woke up, but now he begins to direct his hands below the waist, immediately getting the reaction of Buck's hips thrust into his hand. He lets out a little moan.

Also caress the inside of Bucky's thigh where there is hardly any hair “You will see that you will get turned on several times a day, and the only way to remove that feeling of emptiness or loneliness that gnaws at your insides is by having an orgasm. The hornier you go, the less mental coherence you will have, so you should masturbate often so as not to do stupid things, even if you are a hopeless case” Steve smiles. Buck is listening attentively, while with his hands Steve has taken the dick out of the boxer shorts and gently strokes the tip of the glans that is already wet with the precum. Buck clings to the covers, breathing heavily. The sensation runs through his body making him vibrate.

“Your orgasms are going to be devastating. The sensitivity and intensity will be such that in no time you will forget how they were before the change” Steve is jerking his cock at a good pace, making Buck moan like he never has. His cock is still bigger than Steve's, and it's rock hard. His testicles begin to harden, making it clear that he has little left for orgasm.

Steve lets go of his grip and moves between Buck's shaking legs, kissing and licking every inch of skin, gently stroking his hips. He rises slightly to look at him, sweaty and panting, his dilated eyes glowing with fever and desire.

"Get your knee up, Bucky" And he does, propped up on his elbows, without losing sight of Steve's mouth. He bites his lip, slightly more swollen than usual, and of intense color.

He strokes the leg harder from the ankles to the groin, kissing the inner thigh, licking it, taking his cock gently again. He also puts his hand between his buttocks. It’s totally soaked, the smell of sour applesauce is very intense.

Steve inserts his first finger into the ring of muscles all the way slowly, with hardly any resistance. Buck's breathing is tight, squeezing the sheets between his fingers.

He checks that it’s quite dilated and inserts the second finger easily, Buck's natural lubrication makes the job totally easy.

The moment he moves both fingers in and out, he gets a surprised groan. He doesn't doubt that Bucky liked it. He begins to move both fingers vigorously in a repetitive motion, hearing Buck's breath turn gasping.

"More..." Buck gasps. Steve thinks he's ready for a third finger, so he inserts it carefully, smoothly.

The moment he combines finger movements with a firm, rhythmic grip on Buck's long cock, Buck moans loudly, gasping for breath. Steve gets goosebumps at the sounds that escape his lips. Even when Bucky fucks Steve in heat he hasn't gotten that vocal.

Bucky raises his arms and grabs onto the simple metal headboard of the bed, reaching, twisting, biting his lower lip, running his tongue over it. Steve notices Buck's loss of control. He no longer knows where he is or with whom, only seeking his release.

Now he's riding the wave of omega pleasure.

Steve's cock throbs painfully at the cheeky show in front of him. He lays his lips on Bucky's throbbing glans, licking and sucking, stretching, nibbling, getting him to come with an intense moan, followed by several gasping retorts. Buck arches like a rubber spine and ends up shaking like a leaf, goosebumps, heavy breathing, and sweat beading on his skin.

He opens his eyes, blinking. It was the most intense orgasm of his life by far.

He feels Steve's weight on his body. He's sliding on top of him, dropping onto his chest with his head resting on his shoulder. Steve caresses his face and neck. He never stops caressing him in one way or another.

“In addition, you will long for the weight on your body. Being covered by your partner and being buried under their kilos. In that regard, if you want, I'll go find reinforcements. I think you have a pair of dumbbells under the bed, right?” And Stevie knows that he has earned the giggle while receiving a kiss on the crown. He can hear it on his chest where his ear is.

Bucky smells like sour applesauce again, with a hint of caramel from the heat, but the bitterness of fear is gone. "Was it okay?" Steve asks petulantly in a low voice as he fiddles with the curls on Buky's chest.

"It was the best orgasm I have ever had," Buck says smiling, closing his eyes and hugging Steve tightly. “Thanks for that, pal” Little by little he is catching his breath while still smiling.

Bucky would kill for a cigarette right now, but he won't do anything that involves shaking Stevie off of him.

With the sound of rain tapping on the windows and on the fire escape, Bucky closes his eyes, groggy in a cloud of pleasure and sleep. He doesn’t think about tomorrow.

Today he will be a bit selfish and will allow himself to be pampered.


	3. James

Steve was coming home with his head down and wrapped in a scarf to protect himself from the wind blowing through Brooklyn. The dark clouds were flying fast over the sky still laden with water, but fortunately it was not raining.

If it had been raining, Bucky would have grabbed him by the neck. He wouldn't have let him leave the house and risk bronchitis in a million years.

But he had gotten the information Buck was looking for. There was a hormone suppressant for omegas that was subcutaneous and lasted about 3 years. The probelam is that it was illegal in the US. It came from some dark point in Asia and the side effects it could cause were not well known.

To begin with, Steve felt like an idiot for telling him. Sarah, his mother, had informed him deeply about everything that had or would have to do with his change to omega. She told him about the physical changes he would experience, the risks that existed, or the "grandmother's remedies" that weren't reliable. Sarah wanted her son to be informed of everything that was available to him, both legal and illegal.

And, oh yes, the talks included abortions and illegal contraceptives.

Obviously, the illegality of these suppressors did not stop the American population, who seemed to have their own opinion on the matter. As Mrs. Maggie Moore (a nurse and her mother's colleague) had told him that afternoon, abortion was also illegal but every year thousands of pregnant females risked derision, punishment and death at the hands of a bungler to get rid of their problem.

Thousands? Yes, they were counted in the thousands.

The unofficial statistics Nurse Moore kept were shocking. The omegas in heat were the most fertile of the entire population, as well as the most docile. The percentage of abortions among the omegas was very high.

And also that of rape victims.

About 70% of the omega population has acknowledged having suffered some type of sexual abuse ‘ _Steve, dear, that's 2 out of every 3 omega you meet in your life’_ mentioned with a tight voice Mrs. Moore, and her look showed that the experience she had in this matter was extensive, and that she has seen horrors that have marked her throughout her professional career.

There, seated in a comfy armchair patterned with cheerful flowers and with his hands warmed by a cup of tea, Steve was glad of each and every time Buck put on a condom no matter how annoying and uncomfortable it may seem at times.

And he also realizes that the protective attitude that Buck has covered over him like a cloak without hardly noticing is why Steve is not among that 70%. Because everyone knows Steve has more value than brains, but James is a Doberman in his shadow.

So this illegal contraceptive of which it was not known what side effects it could cause, which required a small outpatient intervention, which if detected could take you from 6 to 36 months in jail, was a star product on the black market.

A salvation against abuse.

It was disgusting how necessary it seemed.

.oOo.

He walked into the house, where he still smelled of cloying sour applesauce. He left his coat behind the door and was already moving down the hall when he heard little whimpers coming from his room. By the labored breathing that reached his ears, Bucky was helping himself. What he did not expect when entering the room was the show.

Buck was practically naked, his skin shiny with sweat, and on all fours on the bed, with one of Steve's toys.

The inflatable knot.

Steve's cock moved with interest and his heart jumped. Bucky was covered only in Steve's shirt as he masturbated, and moaned without any shame. Every time he tightened the inflation bulb in his hand, the knot would swell and cause another devastating orgasm.

Steve swallowed.

"Hey pal, do you want help with that?" he didn't stop staring as he pulled off the jacket that was too big for him and hung it on the back of the chair. Buck had slowed down as he barely watched his friend. His long lips were reddish and wet, the stubble made him look handsome, unruly. Steve sat on the side of the bed to remove his shoes and clothes, but he wasn't expecting the bear hug that caught him from behind.

"Steve!" Bucky exclaimed in a low voice, rubbing his cheeks with the blond's, hard. Steve's skin was sensitive and Bucky's beard was going to make his cheeks sore. Bucky took a deep breath next to Steve's ear, which felt a wet tongue caressing the glands behind his ear. When his friend noticed the smooth taste of vanilla and caramel he relaxed a little more.

“... Stevie” Bucky sighed now more calmly as he continued rubbing his face against Steve's cheeks and nape.

"You missed me, huh?" Steve smiled. This first heat of Bucky is proving maddening, far worse than any he's been through himself.

"Mmhmm" accepts Bucky, who was already helping him unbutton his shirt. Bucky turned out to be very tactile and demanding. As soon as Steve took off his shirt, he stole the inflation bulb from Buck's hand and pushed him until he was face down on the bed.

Steve wasted no time laying down on Buck's back so that the skin was in contact. With his right hand, he stroked and massaged the ribs, shoulder, and arm while his left carefully protected the inflation bulb in question. When he was comfortable enough on Bucky's back, he began to lick the back of his neck and the right trapezius muscle. Bucky turned his head to give her as much space on his neck as possible with a little shiver, panting softly. And that's when Steve bites. He did not draw blood, of course, but he knew the force he must exert to achieve a shock of sensations. And then it was time to inflate the knot that was already installed between his legs.

Buck winced and his body arched, panting loud and clear. His muscles trembled and his hips moved of their own accord, his hands sought the first thing they found to squeeze, which in this case was a cushion.

But Steve wasn't done. Without letting go of his grip on his neck, he tightened the inflation bulb again, causing it to swell even more.

Buck moaned against the pillow, orgasm coursing through his body like an electric current, causing more involuntary hips.

Not ten seconds had passed since Steve had swollen the knot again, with practically no time to deflate. And Buck felt the orgasm again spread from his navel to the ends of his fingers and toes. He arched up, moaning firmly clinging to the pillow, and for a moment he was no longer even aware of the sparkling sensations on his skin and the pounding in his heart.

When the orgasm left him, he lay limp on the bed, spilled all over his own fully boned cum.

Steve knows it will take a while for him to be functional. Coming down from the cloud of pleasure is slow, and the orgasm of an omega is simply incredible.

Steve put on his pajamas and left the room to let him sleep. Taking a knot is a serious business and the energy expended by the body of an omega in heat, which was practically not fed during that period, quickly leaves them exhausted.

He left the pants in the laundry basket, he wasn't going to be able to put them on without drawing the attention of any alpha in the area.

Steve has realized that he will not be enough for Bucky. He lacks the stamina to please him. More than once he has been short of breath. His legs have trembled from the effort. He is increasingly aware of the difference between what he can offer him and what an alpha could give him.

Maybe he should bring up the topic of looking for a partner again. After all, they are not a couple of fags. They help each other during the heat period, but because there are trust and affection. They are almost brothers. Family.

And outside of the heat, the touch remains the same as always, that of two friends, two buddies. No bents. And even though Bucky still sleeps with him sometimes, it's because of the damn cold that Steve gets sick so easily.

Yes, at some point he has to bring it up again. Steve is a good friend, and Bucky deserves the best.

He will propose it to Bucky, even if his guts freeze with anxiety. That's what you do when you love a person. You do the best for him.

Steve warms up some water for tea. He hasn't even begun to think about what will become of him when Bucky goes to the army, and there are less than ten days to go…

.oOo.

Steve is taking advantage of Bucky's olfactory inability to cook boiled potatoes with cabbage, onion, and hard-boiled egg when he hears his friend dragging himself down the hall with his bare feet. Soon he feels his head resting on his shoulder. He is somewhat pale but his gaze is directed to the dinner, and from the gesture he makes it seems that he has been personally offended. In 5 days he must have lost about 2 kilos, thinks Steve.

Shitty hormones…

Bucky is opening the drawers to take out the tablecloths and cutlery when Steve gets the courage to say it out loud “I have the information you were looking for, Bucky”

He freezes in midair, in front of the cupboard with glasses. Buck speaks in a small, improper voice “Does it really eliminate heat for 3 years?”

Steve tries not to look at him as he serves the food on the plates. "It seems so" The sigh that comes out of Bucky's nose is one of absolute relief.

The bastard doesn't push. He gives Steve a light pat on the shoulder and continues setting the table. He knows this is a thorny issue for Steve, and plans to wait for him to bring it up.

It is not until they are peeling the tangerines that Steve decides to put the cards on the table.

“They make a small cut to implant it. They'll give you 4 stitches, so it'll be visible for a while” Buck doesn't look at it, concentrating on the break up the tangerines piece by piece.

“I've already passed the medical check-up, no one will notice” Bucky answers and seems very sure about that aspect. Besides, he had always been good at sports; it was not a surprise that he had passed the revision to enter the army.

“What happens if they hurt you and they review your medical file? They'll figure out your subgenre then, Bucky. You have to tell someone when you are assigned to a unit. Someone you can trust and cover your back if I... if..” Steve doesn't know how to finish the sentence. _"If I'm not by your side?" "If I can't fool the doctors into letting me join the military?"_ They weren't even likely to end up in the same unit if he made it.

"It won't appear in my medical file, Steve," Bucky sentenced with a quick glance at the stunned blond. And now Steve realizes that Buck hasn't been out of the house in the last 5 days, which is obviously sensible. Nor has he contacted his parents. Neither called a doctor. Nor to the civil registry to notify his change.

Right now there is no legal document that declares him an omega.

“Is that what you want? Hide in plain sight? Dilute yourself among the betas? ”Steve is not even aware of what he is saying as he rises from the chair abruptly. That little confession, that quick, sheepish gray-eyed look has only confirmed what Steve can't believe. Buck is scared. He was more afraid of showing himself to the world as omega than of going to war.

And that chews on Steve's heart.

He is afraid of what others think of him. Fear of being less just for being an omega.

To be seen as powerless, an unworthy coward.

Weak

Useless.

Negligible.

Anger flashes in Steve's eyes, who clenches his fists at his side.

Buck gets up quickly from the chair, almost knocking it over with impetus “No, no, Steve, wait!” And Steve says nothing, but more because anger has left him speechless and probably if he manages to articulate a single syllable now, he will regret it all his life.

Buck rubs his hands over his face helplessly, booming loudly. "Just ... just let me explain, okay?" He sits defeated on the couch.

“If I present myself as an omega, they will not accept me in the army. It's the law, Steve. You know it, you are living it” And yes, Steve knows it because it is one of the first arguments that doctors use to rule him out in the check-ups.

“This war ... do you think Hitler will settle for Europe? Many of our families have their roots there. Your parents were from Ireland, damn it” And Buck runs his hands through his short brown hair, tossing it back nervously.

“Civil victims are counted in millions. Can you believe it? They suffer from night bombings and ... concentration camps ... Fuck, something has to be done, Steve. You said it. You want to enter the army to serve your country, but above all, to do the right thing. And the right thing to do is stop that bastard” Steve hates, hates when his own arguments turn against him. And more when it’s Buck's lips that do it.

“If I present myself as an omega they will exclude me. And I'll regret it for a lifetime, Stevie. I know…”

Steve rages. Being an omega shouldn't condition anyone's future. Buck was the bravest and most charismatic bastard he knew. The army should thank each and every soul who had decided to curb Hitler's madness, and James Buchanan Barnes was worth no less for being an omega.

But he was right. He himself was living it in his flesh.

The discrimination.

_What if he...?_

No. He's not going to take the easy path. He can do it. Everyone knows that he’s an omega. He has never hidden.

And he's not going to start now, as much as it makes it easier for him to enter into the army.

“And if the war lasts more than 3 years?” Steve asks him, and Bucky knows what that means. His friend is contemplating his words. Now he has to make penetrating the idea deep and reassure Steve

“They will give me licenses much earlier. When I come back I can change it, I'm sure” Bucky dares to look at Steve, who is weighing the plan. It's not a bad plan, no matter how he looks at it.

The moment Steve sighs in resignation, he knows he has won.

“In a couple of days you should have finished with the heat. We'll go then” Steve sits down to finish eating the tangerine, defeated. Buck also takes a seat, trying not to smile and failing miserably. Steve looks at him covertly. It's not one of his crooked smiles, no. It is a childish, excited smile. He throws a piece of mandarin at him and hits him square in the forehead.

"Huh ?!" Bucky complains. Steve furrows his eyebrows and glares at him. “You seem too satisfied with yourself, so you wash the dishes” Steve gets up and goes to the sofa, where he takes the paper and the charcoal, pretending not to see the martial salute that Bucky gives him, who has not stopped smiling.

That jerk...

.oOo.

It is night when they get off the bus. There are still a couple of stops to go, but Bucky is paranoid enough to get off too close to his destination. At least the rain has stopped, leaving nights too cold for Steve's liking.

They walk calmly down the street although Steve is not exactly relaxed. He runs his hand through his bangs over and over again.

The decision is made. He's going to help Bucky, but...

Fuck, but Steve doesn't want Bucky to have to hide it either. It's not fair. It's not fair that to do the right thing, Bucky has to hide his subgenre and camouflage himself from the crowd. It's not fair that Steve won't be allowed to sign up either. The war had already touched America and if the madman who rules Germany wins, not only Europe will fall. The world as we know it is at stake.

The contraceptive should be legal to equal the chances of the omegas with the rest of the population. Also already exist for alphas. Obviously a war is not the best place for almost 40% of the soldiers to go into unhinged heat trying to get their pricks into everything that moves. Steve doesn't even smile despite the image that forms in his head; rather it makes him think that the army is a dangerous place for an omega to hide.

In spite of everything, that does not daunt him.

He is going to join the army as an omega, weighing 50kg; having asthma, sclerosis, with flat feet. He is worth no less than any other man willing to lay down his life for freedom.

And he's going to prove it.

"Rogers?" Buck looks at him, concerned. Now that he thinks about it, Bucky has been talking to him for a while.

"Do you know where it is or not?" He asks. The line of his jaw is tight. He is freshly shaved. The gloss of fever has disappeared from his eyes, but his lips are still too bright.

“Yes, sorry, I was distracted. In a couple of blocks, I think, but we arrived very early. Shall we go for a ride?” Steve wants to say a lot of things but he doesn't want them to sound reproachful.

Bucky looks at him, tense. He nods but says nothing. Go forward with his hands in his coat pockets. He doesn't look at Steve as he takes out a cigarette and lights it.

Steve can't shut up anymore. “Look, I want you to think about it carefully, okay? This shit is illegal, we don't know what side effects it can have...” He is quickly interrupted by Bucky's tired voice “Steve, I don't care. I've already passed the medical inspection, I'll be in the army in a week, there's nothing more to talk about. ”He takes a deep drag but swallows with difficulty.

“Well, it's your time to show what an omega can do, damn it! You are the most stubborn man I know...”

Buck laughs lamely and stands in the middle of the sidewalk.

“No”

He turns and faces Steve. This time there is determination in his eyes. He is nervous, his breathing is rapid, and his hands are sweating. He has shadows under his eyes now that he has had time to think clearly about how his life has changed.

“I will never, never say that I am an omega. It will not be recorded in any report. I don't want, I never wanted”

His lower lip trembles a bit as he takes a breath -And if I don't show up, they'll condemn me as a deserter- He raises his hand to silence Steve, who is already about to interrupt him.

“Maybe one day, when the war is over and I'm a fucking war hero, maybe then I will consider announcing my subgenre to the world. But not today. Not now”

He looks at him with those steel gray eyes. It goes through it. The bastard has been thinking a lot.

“I'm not you, Rogers”

And now Steve is upset. He knows that this is not the place or the time. But he can't shut up “Bucky...”

“You are a brave son of a bitch; you want to join the army having more chronic diseases than my whole family combined. And hey, I admire and support you. But don't ask me to do the same, because I just can't. And if there is a suppressor that promises 3 years without heats, oh damn I'm going to use it even if my dick falls off”

Steve snorts “You really could take care of that language a bit, Barnes” Steve moves his bangs nervously and then crosses his arms. He's not going to get Bucky to change his mind. He knows it, and it bothers him. Usually he is the stubborn.

But Bucky sighs closing his eyes, relaxing his shoulders, trying to smile conciliatory “No, Rogers, really. Please, I've never asked you for anything. The only thing I've ever asked of you in this life is that you be a little tidier and I haven't even achieved that” That gets a snort from Steve. He stopped counting the times Bucky picked up his dirty socks from the floor and threw them at his face.

“I need you in this, pal, I need you with me. I need your support and your silence. Can I count on it?”

Steve bites his lip. In his eyes there is doubt and a start of rebellion “Only if you tell someone who can cover your back in your unit. If in a year you have not told anyone, I will do it myself” And he knows from the incredulous and terrified look that it has been the wrong answer “It’s for your safety...” he stammers.

Bucky takes a step back, two, as he swallows hard, looking at him as if a dagger has been driven into his intestines. He is pale as a corpse.

"Don't look at me like that, Barnes! Imagine what happens if it doesn't work properly. How are you going to protect yourself? Where would you stay?!”

"Damn sucker ... You can't tell anyone! Do you hear me? It's my fucking decision!” James Buchanan Barnes has never, ever looked at Steve like that. And Steve has screwed it up many, many times.

Buck is unhinged. His fists are clenched at his side, trembling. His eyes are a window into Buck's deepest terror. Is he ashamed? Afraid?

And Steve? Does he consider him worthy of pity too? Is he a burden?

"Promise me!" He roars. "Swear it on your mother, Rogers!!"

Steve is angry. A lot.

But as he has said, he has never asked for anything. In less than a week he goes to training camp. He will be there for 2 months before being sent to war.

The war is in Europe, so Buck is going away. Steve doesn't even know if he will see him again.

Steve can do this for him. He is going to do it because these may be his last words.

His last will.

So Steve Grant Rogers bites his tongue, swallows his words and swears to him.

He swears that he will never say a word without his permission. That he will never betray his trust. That his secret is safe with him.

He swears to God.

He swears by his mother.

Until the end of the line.


	4. Agent Carter

The night was cool but pleasant. The waning moon and a couple of stars were shining in the sky. New York nights weren't much brighter because of light pollution.

Bucky wanted his last night in town to be normal, nothing extraordinary. He acts like it's just a temporary trip like there really aren't any risks. The possibility of dying is not something that even seems to cross his mind.

It's all a phony, Steve knows. He has dined with his family so that they will have an unblemished memory of him. He has lovingly kissed his sisters and perhaps lingered a few extra seconds on his parents' arms. Bucky was always the apple of his mother’s eye.

And he spends the night with Steve and a couple of cute and entertaining chicks, once again protecting his subgenre. Acting like a cheerful and charming beta.

But of course, Steve saw a recruiting point and it's not something he can get out of his head. Doing the right thing. Saving lives. Supporting Bucky.

Really, what is left here for him? His mother is gone. He is an adult. The Barnes family has enough trouble with their 3 wayward girls and their beloved son at the front line.

His best and only friend is leaving. Maybe forever.

And the girl who accompanies Bucky's conquest looks at him as if he were an insect. That's not even a novelty...

So when a recruiting point appears in his field of vision Steve's feet carried him to the entrance, vanishing into the crowd.

And behind him appears Bucky's voice “Come on, you’re kind of missing the point of a double date. We’re taking the girls dancing” He looks at him, smiling, in uniform. The bastard has a good build. Steve returns a shy smile, has been caught red-handed and nervously repositioning his bangs… “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you”

Bucky sulks. Of course, Steve's intentions are clear to him. Wherever there is a recruitment point, there is Steve. Like flies to honey, although maybe "honey" is not the word Bucky uses...

And for the umpteenth time, they argue. Steve doesn't want to ruin his night, he just sees another chance. And why not? This time he will try Steve from Ohio. If they accept him, Bucky will laugh.

But not now, exasperated as he is by Steve's stubbornness. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they actually take you”

And Steve thinks he knows what the core of the problem is. "I know you don't think I can do this…" Bucky interrupts him. "This isn't a back alley, Steve. It’s war!" Bucky rolls his eyes. The last 4 days have done nothing but argue.

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them! That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me” Steve looks at him, trying to get his irrefutable truth into the hard brain of his best friend. What part is not understood? Why can’t he see it?

"Right. ‘Cause you got nothing to prove..." Bucky smiles, exhausted. He still thinks that Steve's will is just another facet of pride.

Steve knows he's trying his luck. At this point, at home, he would have taken a rogerslap. But Bucky gives up. Poor man, his stubbornness doesn’t hold a candle to him…

The girls are calling out to him from the fair and Bucky knows when he has lost a battle.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back" Bucky tells him.

“How can I? You are taking all the stupidity with you” Steve answers smiling sadly. They hug each other tight, but they don't linger. Steve makes sure to pay attention to Bucky's personal scent, the mild smell of green apples, and memorizes it.

“You’re a punk...” Steve's heart skips a second. The insult dance is one of his favorites. Not one that their mothers liked, but they haven't stopped over the years, although the dance got more colorful when Bucky worked a few months at the port.

“Jerk. Be careful” he replies with affection. "Don't win the war ‘til I get there!"

.oOo.

Dr. Erskine seemed pleasantly pleased with Steve's tenacity and wanted him in the strange and secret project that the Strategic Scientific Reserve was running. Apparently, Steve said the right words for once...

So there he was.

Without a cloud on the horizon, the harsh sun simmered the new recruits into the camp, who lined up in questionable lines.

Questionable at least until a firm female voice with a British accent began barking orders. Everyone was puzzled. Agent Carter was all curvy and lipstick, and surprisingly she wasn't an alpha.

Agent Carter, as she introduced herself, was not one of those who were intimidated by the arrogance of the first moron to seek her tickles. So when one of the arrogant recruits got boastful, she quickly took the stupidity away with a punch.

The recruit who tried to be smart (an alpha, of course.) ended up on the ground with his nose bleeding just in time to be observed without no humor by Colonel Phillips.

Agent Carter was an impressive chick.

Agent Carter was also a merciless sadist. She made them run, jump, climb, and wish they hadn't been born, all that without wrinkling her shirt one bit. With a lot of class.

She also stood out. She was big. She moved with poise and assurance, almost intimidating. She was attentive and sharp. Those beautiful brown eyes scrutinized each of the recruits with a magnifying glass, no doubt taking mental notes.

And nothing escaped her eye.

She was not the only torturer in the squad that included all the candidates to be "the chosen one" for the test. The first of a race of super soldiers. Colonel Phillips was the highest authority in the camp, a sullen, grumpy old alpha with an impressive potato nose and hairy gray eyebrows. Steve knew that his presence infuriated the Colonel, and not precisely because of his omega smell. Dr. Erskine had told him that all alphas used suppressants in the military due to the many problems during World War I every time most of the soldiers went into rut. As there were no suppressants for omegas (that they knew, of course...) Steve was made to wear anti-odor plasters on each of his glands.

No, Colonel Phillips saw an asthmatic and useless 50 kg weakling who stood out in the squad for being the shortest. The skinniest. The slowest. And that for some strange reason he had the support of the scientist who led the project. So Steve wasn't exactly the apple on the Colonel's eye.

But at least he was the smartest, getting the flag (which nobody in 17 years had obtained?! For God's sake... there is no soldier with two neurons in the United States Army?).

Steve got Agent Carter's first crooked and complicit smile, which made his full lips briefly show her white teeth. He noted that he had been analyzed under that watchful eye and when he "got" the flag, there was... amusement in those eyes. And also respect. Steve smiled at her, conscious of not having a smart brain. Simply the intellectual level of the platoon was... low.

It's also when Carter first saw him. Obviously, Agent Carter knew him. The slowest, the weakest, blah blah blah. That earned him nothing more than a curious look. Why had he been chosen for this super-secret project? But the Agent did not seem to have any judgment or prejudice. Maybe even Steve had a glimpse of sympathy. Considering that the few beta women who entered the military were relegated to office work, she was without a hint of a doubt stubborn, and an example for the female gender.

.oOo.

He got the second smile from Agent Carter when he threw himself on a grenade to prevent the shrapnel from going too far and injuring someone. She looked at him with amazement and tenderness. Steve didn't think too much about it, either, his little body moved by itself. But seeing Agent Carter approach him with a scared face set him off all the alarms, until he realized that the grenade didn't seem to explode. It was surreal. One moment they were training and the next Steve was about to die protecting his teammates from an unfortunate accident, and 5 seconds later, Steve had his whole life ahead of him again.

"Is this a test?" Steve asked, his heart still in his mouth and his hands shaking.

In the end, it did turn out to be a test, because that same night he was told that he would be the one chosen to carry out the experiment. All of his classmates have been transferred to other training camps, and Dr. Erskine talks to him about the serum and Schmidt, guiltily.

If what Dr. Erskine is concerned about is that he remains a good man above all else, Steve remains calm. He knows that if he had been able to change his way of being, he probably would have saved his mother a few troubles and not a few fights in alleys...

A good sip of that liquor would have helped him through the night, he thinks. His mind wanders about how he got to this point in his life. He doesn't know what will happen tomorrow. He could die. He could turn into an elephant. He could stay as it is and the effort would have been useless.

 _“Don't do anything stupid until I get back_ ” Bucky said, resigned _"How can I? You are taking all the stupidity with you..."_ Steve replied, smiling.

 _Oh Bucky, no matter how it ends tomorrow, you're going to be mad_ , he thought before falling asleep.

.oOo.

The car drives through the streets of Brooklyn. Steve is restless and nervous, and the presence of Agent Carter by his side doesn't exactly make it easier. It’s the first time he has detected her personal scent, a mild fragrance of gardenias and rain. He decides to start a pointless chat.

“I know this neighborhood. I got beat up in that alley. And that parking lot. And behind that diner” It would have been better to keep quiet. Congratulations Rogers…

Agent Carter resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Did you have something against running away?" Carter doesn't look at him but she's curious, and he has her full attention. How many times had Bucky asked the same question?

Steve doesn't look at her either. He is out of place, he does not know how to address her. And he doesn't want to see pity in her eyes. “You start running, they’ll never let you stop. You stand up. You push back. They can’t say no forever, right?” He looks at his hands in his lap. He doesn't know what to do with them other than hold up the training cap.

“I know a little of what that’s like, to have every door shut in your face” Briefly their eyes meet. Agent Carter's eyes are sympathetic. Steve knows that as a beta woman she must have had a difficult time in the military, facing each and every one of those who did not think she was qualified enough. Or they simply despised her for being a woman. The military is a nest of sexism.

“I guess I just don’t know why you’d want to join the Army if you were a beautiful dame. Or a… a woman. An agent. Not a dame. You are beautiful, but…” Well done, Rogers. With this silver tongue, you will go far. And probably from a kick...

Carter stares at him, almost humorously. "You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?" And indeed nothing escapes her. Steve has no woman friends (Bucky and his sisters don't count). With his health, no one ever stayed by his side long enough to develop the necessary confidence. And she's a dame, for God's sake! He's not going to start treating her like Bucky, all insults here...

"I think this is the longest conversation I've had with one" Steve looks straight ahead, to the side, anywhere but Carter. Is he ashamed? Yes, a little bit. He is a female man, an omega, not a woman. Women like to get together to put on makeup, go out dancing, and do... girly things, but Steve... he is a tomboy.

“Women aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on”

“You must have danced...” An implicit question. Maybe some disbelief. Wait, Steve is missing something. Carter knows he's an omega, right? Is she talking about finding a partner? A mate?

Before answering he hesitates a bit “Well, asking someone to dance always seemed so terrifying. And the past few years, it just didn’t seem to matter that much. I figured I’d wait” he rolls his shoulder in an unconscious gesture as if he doesn't care about lost time while his mind wanders over the expectations of the past years. He had hope, but his wishes were not fulfilled.

"Wait for what?" Agent Carter asks curiously.

"To the right partner," Steve ends. He is not comfortable talking about this. He grew up knowing he had found his mate but now ... he's a female too. Uncertainty invades him, he is afraid of loneliness but also of being mated against his will. The difficulty of finding a right mate is common ground with Agent Carter, he imagines.

But Carter smiles with sympathy and complicity.

.oOo.

When Steve opens his eyes he is still dazzled by the power of the vita rays. He gasps, exhausted. He seems to have run the marathon and, without a doubt, due to the stiffness that he notices in every cell of his body, he could well have done it.

They help him down from the capsule, still trembling slightly as he tries to catch his breath. Good Lord, the air is heavy with heavy odors and there are a lot of people murmuring, creating quite a buzz around him, but he recognizes the smells and the voice next to him from Dr. Erskine and Mr. Stark.

His body is covered in sweat and he's barely aware of where his feet are standing. In front of him, there is a soft smell of gardenias and rain that he recognizes easily before he even sees her. Her scent begins to change to something sweeter and more feminine. She is nervous, anxious. Willing?

"How do you feel?" Agent Carter asks him. Even her tone of voice has changed.

And considering that he must look down, he realizes.

“Taller...” he answers puzzled.

Steve looks into her eyes in confusion, and there is not just admiration in them. There is surprise, curiosity, and longing in her eyes. For him? Her nostrils flare to take a deep breath of his essence. The thick lips, redder than you've ever seen them, are semi-open and provocative. And her restless and dilated pupils make it clear that she likes what is in front of her.

Him.

“Yes, you are taller” She tells him as her hand wanders unconsciously towards his torso. Finally, she pushes a t-shirt on his abdomen (wait, those abs are his?), and she doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands, suddenly awkward. In the background, people keep whispering

He is still disoriented by all the information his senses receive when there is an explosion. Then two shots.

Steve realizes that Dr. Erskine is injured on the ground. The whole world explodes into chaos.

Two more shots, but he ignores them. In his arms, Dr. Erskine exhales his last breath looking into his eyes with a reminder for Steve. _Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man._

The only man who had trusted the little omega with more heart than brain.

Steve feels a stabbing pain at the injustice, but it is something that can still end successfully.

Without waiting for another second, he runs off after the spy.

But when he goes out into the street what he sees is Agent Carter standing like a marble statue, aiming at the car that is speeding towards her. Her eyes are cold and calculating, without a shadow of a doubt. This is a brave and impetuous woman, but analytical and tempered in mind.

And about to be run over!

Steve jumps towards her out of the way.

"I had him!" Carter yells indignantly. There's a lot of outrage in that look, on those thick, tight red lips.

"Excuse me!" Steve yells, already pushing his body after the taxi in which the murderer of Dr. Erskine tries to flee.

And while he runs he feels his body, his new body which he is now capable of demanding and demanding without seeming to have limits. So much power that it’s difficult to control, like a foal trying a prone gallop for the first time.

.oOo.

Steve realizes all the merits of his body now that the corpse of the spy lies at his feet and the vial with the formula is strewn on the dock. He was able to jump a 2-meter fence without losing the pace of the race. He has been able to trace the scent of the man's blood. He has been able to overtake a damn miniature submarine, holding his breath for more than 2 minutes.

Steve's new body is control. It’s coordination. His body does what he asks, without pain, tremors, or deficiencies. It’s a perfect body that bends perfectly to his mind. Dr. Erskine had told him that he would metabolize 4 times faster than a human. It was likely that he didn't even have a heat.

A marvel of biological engineering.

But Steve is sure that something else has also changed, something that he will not check in public.

Colonel Phillips goes to London with Agent Carter and Mr. Stark on a mission to destroy Hydra. The president himself has given him the order. The Colonel excludes Steve, frustrated with the impossibility of getting more super soldiers, just as he requested. He also doesn't think he's capable of making a difference up front lines and maybe he's right, but Steve wants to help. The death of Dr. Erskine cannot be in vain.

Steve feels marginalized and worthless, at least until Senator Brandt (an alpha who is all smiles and promises) seems to see the potential in him and promotes him to Captain. He will take this vote of confidence. He will do the best he can and will not disappoint the senator, no matter what mission he gives him.

Finally, the day ends and he arrives in his room. He has to be in New York first thing in the morning, but now he has time to himself. To assimilate everything that has happened. Everything his body has become.

So he sets the chamomile infusion on the nightstand, locks the door, and prepares for a shower.

In front of the mirror, he can see that his torso is broad, with large and firm pectorals and without a single hair. The nipples appear the same size, so compared to the pecs they are smaller. The muscles are perfectly detailed with every movement he makes. The abs are flawlessly defined, like boxers on seasonal posters, and the oblique muscles in the waist lead the way south. His body is a perfect masculine triangle.

He takes off his pants and briefs unceremoniously, impatient for what he can find.

And he was right to think that his body had deeply changed.

The clitoris, which as in all male omega is very similar to a penis and which also becomes erect when excited, is now a thicker and longer penis. Like obscenely long.

And there is a strange thickening at the base.

The lower lips, which look like a scrotum from the front but open and moist at the back, are now fully fused into a large, round scrotal pocket. The posterior opening has disappeared and he notices... a testicle on each side. Good Lord, have the ovaries dropped to form the testicles? Are they real testicles? Are those lower ovaries still making eggs or are they now making sperm? And his...

Steve swallows hard. Now his hands are shaking. He moistens his hands with water and gently runs his fingers through the entrance to the vagina. The vagina and colon share an entrance orifice, the sphincter. There is a flexible wall of muscle that separates the uterus from the intestine to isolate it from possible infections, the rectovaginal septum, and that during sexual arousal sticks to the intestine, facilitating penetration in the correct way.

But he is no longer able to find his...

His vagina.

He's pretty sure he's no longer an omega. In fact, the subgenre change is quite evident and he is now a male man. An alpha.

But at least now he understands why Agent Carter was looking at him like he was a box of chocolates.

He takes off each and every one of the anti-odor plasters that still cling valiantly to his skin and throws them away. He smells the armpits where there isn't a single hair yet. His characteristically sweet omega fragrance has disappeared for a predominant hint of dry, woody vanilla. The caramel has dimmed to just a lightly toasted trace. He squeezes the pheromone gland to purge it and a thick cream comes out of it. It smells of stress, fear, and anxiety. Steve wrinkles his nose and quickly wipes his hands at the sink. It squeezes again and soon it stops secreting. The pheromone glands seem congested with the debris it secreted as omega.

He gets under the shower and proceeds to clean all his glands, abusing the soap and the washcloth. When he is cleaning the glans, he notices its hyper-sensitivity, so he caresses himself with curiosity. In no time he wonders how the size he has achieved is even possible. Or legal.

It is also true that he has never been able to compare with another erect member except for Bucky, but he had turned out to be another omega, so the comparisons are not reliable either.

He keeps jerking up and down with his hand, stroking the tip of the glans with the fingers of his other hand, letting the electricity and pleasure build up behind the balls. He begins to pant hard, his legs stiffen and his toes wrinkle, as if trying to gain traction on the ground. As he continues to explore the sensations to come, he thinks of Agent Carter's full red lips, with her perfect white teeth and big warm eyes filled with desire and longing. That mouth could look so good around his cock while the sly, pink, wet tongue was sure to do amazing things to his glans, stroking his balls with those soft hands...

And just imagining it, Steve is already losing himself in orgasm, which comes in waves and is hard and explosive. He notices a sensation of lack at the base of his cock, which is now inflated (the fucking alpha knot, now he gets it) and he puts the palm of his hand pressing around it. There is immediate relief, though his jaw is clenched and he wants to snap his teeth in the air. The loneliness he feels on his skin is strange. He realizes that his arms are made to hold and squeeze a body in front of him. Under him.

But his train of thought is lost when he sees the amount of sperm on the wall and the shower tray. It's an impossible amount.

Is that all his?!


	5. Peggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult to describe because it's not my jam but I find it essential for the good narrative of the fic.  
> The next chapter is one of my favorites and it comes with a surprise ;)

Italy, November 1943, 5 miles from the front

The dark clouds have not left the sky but at least they give a merciful rest from the rain that has been falling mercilessly all week, puddling the dirt roads of the camp. The mud forms a dense quagmire where anyone could lose their shoes if they are not vigilant. There are no plants on the margins of the roads. The boots of more than 500 men have removed almost all traces of plant life in the makeshift barracks.

"Nice boots, Tinkerbell!" Shouts one of the huddled soldiers, watching his performance as everyone around him burst out laughing. Yeah, at least the guy's funny, not like the jerk who shows him his hairy ass. The moment to retire comes when vegetables and things that Steve prefers not to investigate begin to rain on him.

He has no grudge against them...

The atmosphere in the camp is overwhelming, fraught with fear, anger, and sadness. Not even the smell of the latrines can hide it.

Luckily the girls don't mind repeating their number 30 times if necessary, offering a show, an easy smile, and lots of skin. Just what the soldiery needs, not some guy in tights with a shoddy script meant to inflame fools and distract children, but entertainment to get them out of the dark thoughts most find themselves immersed in.

And with the recent changes that had been made to the setup of the choristers, there is no doubt that some of them will also comfort them tonight.

Sitting bored and disappointed, he lets his fingers translate frustration into a drawing. Notebook, pencil, and eraser are his eternal companions against the loneliness he feels deep down. The girls… they are fun, frivolous, and loose. They've gotten tired of trying to harass Steve and get nothing but a forced smile and some bad excuses. Steve marvels at how little he still has in common with them.

The rain makes an appearance again, causing everyone to seek shelter under the canvases of the tents and the wooden huts. His heart skips when he smells her before he even hears her appear. Gardenias just watered. Their presence seems appropriate while it rains.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asks surprised. Agent Carter smiles almost shyly, her pupils widening slightly as she looks at him, and then she looks away, blinking. Her eyes are still beautiful and warm, and the mascara only accentuates her natural beauty.

"Officially I'm not here" Her voice tries to hide fatigue and failure with a light, casual tone, but Steve is not fooled. "It was a great performance," she congratulates him. She has no mockery in her tone.

Carter is a contradictory woman. She is still interested in him, he can smell him. She is drawn like a moth to a flame. Every time Agent Carter looks at him, her scent changes subtly and her pupils dilate almost imperceptibly. She purses her full lips for a few seconds as if trying not to smile at him and Steve is fascinated by the resistance of her lipstick, the shape of her mouth. The sincerity of her gaze.

Willing.

And yet absolutely committed to her duty.

“I had to improvise a little bit” Steve looks away nervously and sighs, looking around while she sits on the stage behind him, taking off her coat “The crowds I’m used to are usually more, uh… twelve” He doesn't hide his frustration, not before her. He is emotionally exhausted even though he had never been so close to enemy lines.

So close to his dream.

“I understand you’re ‘American’s New Hope’ ” Oh merciful God ... Has Carter seen his promotional films? He feels the stab of shame remembering how proud he had been of the stupid movies he had starred in a fictional war that has nothing to do with the camp they are in. The misery that is breathed.

But Colonel Phillips had almost kicked him out of the successful and unsuccessful experiment. I didn't want him up front. He was not what America needed to win the war.

He feels the need to justify himself; after all, this unit is probably shooting with the bullets that Steve got them from the bond sale promotion.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” An almost casual comment from Agent Carter, but there is nothing casual about her or her words. It has gone to bite, and it hurts in the pride. Steve is irritated. They haven't given him many options.

“At least he’s got me doing this. Phillip would have had me stuck in a lab” It's bitter how everything has ended. He's Captain America, capable of lifting a Harley with three girls sitting on it, and he's still not good enough for them to let him go to the front.

“You were meant for more than this, you know” Damn she is persevering like a hunting dog, with those big, sincere eyes; with that skill with words that leaves you naked in front of yourself, to be your judge and executioner.

And give you the opportunity to bring out your best version.

But the wonderful thing about Peggy Carter is that she really believes what she says. Under all that facade of toughness and control, and even affection and desire, she really thinks that he is capable of making a difference on the battlefront.

“You know, for the longest time, I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted… and I’m wearing tights” He shakes his head, smiling humorlessly, incredulous at how pathetic he sounds. It's probably ridiculous in Agent Carter's eyes, but she doesn't look at his uniform. She doesn't look at Captain America. Carter still sees Steve, the kid from Brooklyn who recklessly threw himself on a grenade. He realizes that he really cares about her opinion. He values her judgment.

He admires her.

In the distance, several car horns sound and they quickly arrive at the camp with the wounded. It smells of blood, pus, and fear. There is pain in the voices. The medical team is already coming out to help them.

“They look like they’ve been through hell” Poor devils, Steve thinks. He briefly wonders how many of them will survive, without him being able to do anything for them. The camp is very close to the enemy lines. Here there have been many humans, strategic and economic losses.

“These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him” she sighs with regret “and less than 50 returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured” says agent Carter, watching how the wounded are taken to the infirmary.

And Steve feels his skin crawl from his back to his arms, and his stomach turns to stone.

_The 107 th. Sargent James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow._

He can't forget that number. It's the same unit number his late father served, the one he hardly remembers anything about.

"The 107th?" Steve asks incredulously, getting up quickly to go to the command tent. Agent Carter follows him, not understanding anything, surprised, and striding unabashedly across the muddy ground.

"Colonel Phillips!" Steve enters without any kind of regard. The Colonel looks at him without surprise, raising one of his hairy eyebrows. “Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan for today?” the Colonel sneers. There’s not even humor in his tone. He’s exhausted and frustrated.

Desperated.

"I need the casualty list from Azzano" Steve demands without remembering how the Colonel likes the chain of command. "Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th. Tell me if he's alive..." His heart pumps hard, fast, his mouth dry. He feels unable to think, only to have hope and fear at the same time.

“I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry” Colonel Phillips's face softens, which Steve himself believed impossible. But that only emphasizes the truthfulness of his words.

And he feels the way the ice clings to his insides as if his intestines were spilling on the ground, imagining Mrs. Barnes receiving the letter and bursting into tears surrounded by her daughters.

_Don't do anything stupid until I get back..._

Had he been playing the dancing monkey while Buck was being killed? How? How could it be? How was that even fair in any of God's plans?

But no. Bucky is a survivor, like a funny and charming raccoon until he bites you in the ass. So he's not a good candidate to be dead, but being dead may only be a matter of time.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?” Because if Colonel Phillips is going to launch a rescue mission, Steve plans to go even if he has to hide in the underside of a car.

"Yes, it’s called “winning the war” He says wryly.

Steve doesn’t...

He doesn’t understand.

“But if you know where they are, why not at least…“ but he doesn't have time to finish speaking, Colonel Phillips interrupts him in a bad way. “They’re 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl” he says with anger and contempt, growling under his breath. The Colonel is feeling challenged. As an alpha, he’s not going to allow a fake captain in tights to question his leadership or decisions. At camp, all the alphas use suppressants and anti-odor plasters, but Steve clearly notices that he is using a different tone of voice, one that does not allow any discussion. One that establishes his dominance.

“I think I understand just fine” the unnecessarily authoritative and impertinent tone does not make Steve shy, quite the contrary. He believes in miracles. His body itself is a living example, so he's going to bet that Bucky is alive and that's where he makes the decision.

He’s going to go rescue him.

“Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes” and the Colonel deliberately stops paying attention by turning his back on him, humiliating him. He does not consider it worthy of his attention.

Steve knows why his presence irritates him. It reminds him of the amount of time and resources wasted obtaining a single super-soldier. Hopes of winning the war quickly and effectively have been shattered. Now they have to win battle by battle, the old-fashioned way. With countless civilian and military casualties.

But he knows better. He's used to being underrated, so he stares at Phillips' tactical map and memorizes everything about the factory location where what remains of the 107th infantry unit is located.

Where his best friend is.

If God allowed him to have a body like the one he has, it sure wasn't just to knock out a bad copy of Hitler.

He advances through the camp with Agent Carter hooked on his heels “What is he up to? Go to Austria on foot?” She asks incredulously. She has followed him to the jeep he’s about to "borrow" not caring too much about her wet feet or her mascara running. She knows him well enough to know what that determined look means.

"If necessary, yes" he answers grumpily, leaving everything he thinks he may need in the vehicle. Knows the route but lacks resources.

That’s not going to stop him.

"You heard the Colonel, your friend is mostly like dead" and… God, that hurts. He feels a sting going through his heart and closing his throat. Because it can be true.

"You don't know that!" Steve yells, feeling the sting of tears struggling to get out. Quickly push the pain of loss away because it can't be, he just doesn't accept it.

Never.

“Even so, he’s devising a strategy. If he detects…” but he does not allow Carter to finish the sentence “By the time he’s done that, it could be too late” The grief is being swallowed up by anger, curling in the stomach, in the intestines. He’s also desperate. He’s scared and glad to be wearing the anti-odor plasters so as not to show his weakness to her. But he has to do something, and it is not to stay in the camp to wait for the war to end and pray that by a miracle his friend is alive and well.

"Steve!" The vibration in Carter's voice manages to paralyze him. There is desperation and urgency. There is authority and courage.

And she has never called him by his name.

The normally impeccably styled hair is matted by the rain but the full, full lips remain flawlessly tinted in the red she associates with Peggy Carter's mouth. A color that accompanies her even in the darkest hour. The eyeshadow is starting to wear off but that only makes her hard, worried gaze sparkle more than a mirror.

Carter doesn't want to lose him uselessly.

And Steve takes advantage of it.

“You said before that I was worth something else. Were you serious? ”And Carter sees a plea in Steve's blue eyes. A request that underlies many other unspoken questions, with so many implications...

_Will you ask me to stop being who I am?_

_Will you give up what you believe in for fear of losing me?_

_Are you willing to risk your duty to allow me to go?_

"Completely," Carter answers without blinking for a second, keeping her gaze at Steve, deadly serious and sincere.

And Steve marvels, wondering what he's done to make a lioness like her take an interest in him.

"Then you got to let me go," he begs. Steve also keeps his gaze without looking away. They have never had such lasting, direct eye contact. He lacked the confidence and didn't want Agent Carter to feel challenged or uncomfortable either but Peggy's hazel eyes are beautiful, so big and expressive... until she frowns and her eyes sparkle again with confidence and complicity.

.oOo.

Agent Carter is the one who drives to the town closest to the camp and from there she contacts Mr. Stark giving him a list of things to get, draws up a flight route and gets them permits at the nearest military airstrip.

Carter is the most impressive woman Steve has ever known.

Although they don't talk much along the way, Steve notices that from time to time she looks at him with ill-concealed interest. And when he helps her get on the plane, well... he has a good appreciation for Agent Carter's curves.

Especially a close-up of her peach-shaped butt.

Steve looks down at the ground, his ears burning and not knowing where that simile had come from; but when Agent Carter finds out, she simply rolls her eyes and urges him to hurry, without a single comment about his slip.

But she smiles.

Steve straightens his posture, blinking and casually glancing at her somewhat less embarrassed. He likes to be the focus of that tender but firm gaze, noting butterflies in his stomach and deep affection, admiration, and respect.

Mr. Stark's intense scent of alpha, amidst juniper berries and pinnace, is swallowed up by the smell of burning oil and fuel from the plane's engine that quickly floods everything, sticking to the nostrils and masking almost every other scent. Steve wishes he could bury his nose in Agent Carter's neck, take a deep breath, and cover himself with her scent of security and confidence because right now he doesn't have much left.

But his determination doesn’t waver.

“The Hydra camp is nestled between these two mountain ranges, in Krauss. It will be a kind of factory” Agent Carter reviews for the fourth time, giving him all the material that Mr. Stark has obtained.

Stark's high-pitched and confident voice is swift, despite the fact that they have to shout to be heard over the noise of the engines of the military plane “We should be able to release him at the door” he says, smiling mischievously. It seems incredible how a grown man can have the countenance of a child committing mischief.

The cold worm of fear and anticipation crawls through his intestines. He has never parachuted before and he’s not particularly excited, but he‘s closer to the factory than he could have dreamed of and in record time.

After a competition to see who would have the most trouble when they landed, Agent Carter's raised eyebrow makes it clear that words can hurt but bullets are infinitely more deadly.

"I hope this helps," he says, rattling the metal shield that he has dragged across the United States of America for months. It had had various uses, such as a tray, clipboard, door clips ... It was finally going to serve what it was created for, he thinks with a little pride.

As Mr. Stark continues to watch the plane, he joins the conversation with the casual grace of experience “Agent Carter? If we’re not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue” he suggests, smiling fiercely and turning his concentration back to the controls of the plane. Not for a single moment he has laid eyes on Steve, as if he's not even on the plane.

Steve looks at Stark, and then at Carter. Something has escaped him and he looks back at Stark, but he makes no move to add anything else. When he looks back at Carter he notices a pang in his heart and a stone in his stomach. Has he misread the signs?

Agent Carter for her part remains vigilant. It seems that Steve's face betrays his confusion and she interprets that it is due to a lack of confidence in his skills as a pilot and the disinterest he shows in the dangerous territory they fly over “Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s mad enough to brave this airspace. We’re lucky to have him” she adds with aplomb.

And Steve's mouth speaks without his permission “So are you two… Do you… fondue?”

Carter's eyebrow goes up like he's an idiot. Stark doesn't even look at him.

Oh

Ooooh…

Steve had forgotten that Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter, and Mr. Stark had spent months traveling together for months. It’s normal that they have developed some kind of relationship. After all, she’s in the prime of her life, but with her job she will have few opportunities to maintain any kind of stable relationship.

And Stark... well, it's Stark. At the futuristic fair that took place in Brooklyn, he would kiss any showgirl without any modesty or decorum. He is a Casanova used to dealing with females. Although his perfume as alpha is not very potent, he has that strange combination of charm, education, and mischief that apparently makes him irresistible. Steve wouldn't call him attractive even though he takes great pains to maintain a good appearance.

Even so...

Fondue. They go to fondue, whatever that means. From the honeyed tone in Stark's voice and the sparkling light in his eyes it definitely has to do with sex, or almost.

Agent Carter has a suitor, one she doesn’t reject. One that makes him feel like a jerk believing he really had a chance with her. It is a jug of cold water in Steve's heart because he really liked her sharp mind and rounded curves.

He’s not going to hope and now that he knows it, he does not intend to interfere; his mother raised him properly.

No, as always he will be alone once again, waiting for the right person. He swallows with difficulty as he tries to react nonchalantly, not wanting to be weak to them.

The only weak one is his heart, which should have already learned its lesson.

Carter keeps talking, callous and authoritative; Steve looks at the transponder, no bigger than his hand in serious doubt “Are you sure this thing works?” he asks, appreciating the change of topic to something more urgent and immediate.

Stark answers smiling as always “It’s been tested more than you, pal” he scoffs. And just then bombs or missiles start to explode around the plane. Everyone's face changes and they become alert and serious. The ride is over and the moment of truth has come.

He doesn’t give the opportunity to take unnecessary risks. He orders them to turn around and leaves the plane, first releasing a humorous comment.

If they have to remind him, let him be like a calm and brave man, he thinks as he falls towards no man's land only illuminated by the explosion of the bombs around him. He opens the parachute and prays that he isn't like a Christmas star in the sky because that's how he feels. Vulnerable.

Fragile of body and heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally finished this section! And in the next chapter... Bucky!  
> Are you ready for the drama? I mean... plot. Sure, that...


	6. Not without you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: in addition to explicit sex (as always) there is an alert for questionable consent. I prefer to err on the side of caution.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

The night is pitch black when they get out. Smoke rising from Hydra's weapons factory blankets the sky, causing the fire to reflect, turning it a dark orange. Neither the moon nor the stars are visible, and the light that comes from the fire behind them only enhances the darkness of the old forest that surrounds the area.

Steve keeps his arm around Bucky's waist as he helps him walk. Bucky leans on him but with every step, his limp gets worse. Even so, he does not complain even once and looks forward as best he can. His face is pure determination, Steve thinks as he watches his dark hair stick to his forehead with sweat.

"Not without you!" The words still echo in the blonde's mind. He was prepared to die in the explosion, having saved the 107th infantry unit and its best friend from torture, slavery, and death.

The hairs on the back of his neck still stand on end when he remembers the stench of rotting bodies coming from a far-field west of the factory. They have probably not been buried deep enough, and Steve believes that if there is a smell that he will never forget again, it is that. He doesn't say anything to Bucky either, his nose can't smell it and he's not going to point out what his... his destiny was going to be.

God, he was going to die. If he had listened to Colonel Phillips, Bucky would have been among that pile of corpses and Steve probably would never have known. His stomach clenches and he almost retches from just the memory.

He shakes his head trying to chase away those terrible thoughts. He focuses on the warm, familiar weight he holds to his right and grips a little more tightly.

Fortunately, his nose is now a prodigy. After freeing all the soldiers he found and with few clues as to the whereabouts of his best friend, he began snooping through all the corridors he found. It was pure chance that he saw the scientist leave an office and when he began to chase him, he finally found the subtle perfume of Bucky. With the subcutaneous suppressant, his odor had decreased dramatically, being mild even for a beta.

When he found him tied to a sturdy table with straps and surrounded by medical gadgets that looked more like elements of torture, Bucky wasn't even able to recognize him at first, practically unconscious and chanting his name and army number like a mantra.

Then there was the brief showdown with Schmidt, which sent the adrenaline pumping. And there.

There's where Bucky saves his life.

"Not without you!" Steve remembers. Buck's gray eyes sparkled, fixed on him. His hands gripping the railing that separates him from falling so hard his arms shake. And he knew, Steve knew that he wasn't going to leave the building without him, the damn stubborn. Buck was giving him a chance to escape by risking his life.

Because if it was so important to Steve to save Buck's life, he was going to have to get his sad ass out of there himself.

He felt the sting of helplessness. It was unfeasible for a human to jump that distance and the only beam he could use to cross had just fallen into the all-consuming flames on the lower floor. Why was Bucky wasting the opportunity he had given him to get away? Steve had already put the body he had been given to useful use; fucking hell his friend was greedy!

"Not without you!" And his gaze was so desperate, so hurt, so hard, that Steve had to try, or they were both going to die.

He let out a gasp as his stomach turned to stone and a cold sweat broke out on his back. Falling into the roaring inferno that the innards of the factory had become was death. Well, simply falling from that height was already death. The fire was as good a dramatic effect as any that only added a few more grams of mortality.

Desperate, he looked at how much run he could take.

Four. Miserly. Steps.

And the damn bastard didn’t move from the walkway, waiting for him while the light of the flames reflected in his eyes. Without looking away for a second and scared to death.

Steve could swear he had tears in the corner of his eyes.

And his last thought was that when he fell, at least Buck would give up all hope and leave the place before being eaten by the blast.

It had been sheer courage that Bucky had stayed with him even though he was terrified and had a way out. But they are together until the end of the line, right? And although it is a promise that implies unconditional loyalty and generous friendship like theirs, it’s one thing to say it and another to live it in situ; see how he stays at the risk of his own life to give Steve a chance.

The opportunity not to give up.

Because Steve had already given up.

How many people would have stayed there for him despite having no chance of escape? Just Bucky and that certainty is overwhelming.

Just Bucky.

Steve swallows hard, the excitement causing his throat to constrict and he needs all the strength he can get. The physical state in which Bucky is is regrettable. He seems to have been subjected to some kind of interrogation or torture, he smells of blood and fear. He concentrates on taking one step after another, wheezing. Steve is practically dragging him now that the adrenaline has left them.

They head into the forest, away from the unpredictable fire that is now behind them. They still notice explosions of bluish lights every time one of the strange weapons is engulfed in flames. They have to find the rest of the soldiers. Traveling to the camp alone exposes them to the danger of being captured. He sniffs around briefly to find the trail for Unit 107 and finds them with difficulty, south of his position.

As they take cover on the edge of the dark old forest, Bucky stumbles in exhaustion and groans in pain, the pace too fast for his condition. The intense smell of damp earth and the decaying undergrowth make Steve think there is no immediate danger of encountering more Nazis, and they have put enough distance not to be volatilized, so he decides to pay attention in the here and now.

"We are going to make a technical stop Buck, damage assessment" Steve explains briefly as he helps him to support himself against a large tree. The dry leaves under your feet barely creak from the humidity and the play of light and shadows that are projected by the flames makes the environment have an unreal orange tint.

“Okay Steve, does something hurt? Do you feel drowning, nausea, or a headache?” Bucky asks, focusing his eyes on him as he begins to feel his savior's neck and torso with an expert but weak hands. He doesn't even take a second glance at the gaudy suit under his tattered leather jacket. "Now at least you can fit all that integrity of yours in a single body..." he adds, smiling wearily but affectionately as he marvels at the construction of his muscles and his new height. Buck's eyes drift to his, gaping. "Pal, what a body you've got!" He says admiringly.

Steve is flabbergasted being scrutinized like he's still a frail kid with too much fondness for getting the bullies' attention. He goes from practically holding him by the arms to help him balance to getting into Bucky's space to hug him like a bear, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face in his neck.

Delicious sweet apple and cinnamon muffin.

Sweat and blood too, but at least the tinge of fear isn't as intense as it was while he was tied up on that horrible table.

Bucky is alive.

"I'm fine, Buck, I'm not hurt" Steve says as he hugs him tenderly and breathes in the familiar scent he's grown up with all his childhood. Bucky wraps his arms around his neck and squeezes hard, still a little shaky. He rubs his cheeks against Steve's temple, purring contently. The brunette's unkempt beard scratches the sensitive skin of his face and Steve can feel him running his tongue over the gland behind his ear in a gesture so utterly Bucky that he hadn't realized until now how much he had missed it.

How he had longed for this deafnose.

A sense of relief runs up his spine and makes his heart float, at least until he hears a little ragged gasp.

A sense of relief runs up his spine and makes his heart float, at least until he hears a little ragged gasp.

“Ah!” Bucky exclaims flinching as he passes his tongue over Steve's gland; a sizzle in his mouth makes him salivate. Bucky raises his head and takes a deep breath of air, puzzled.

Steve quickly loosens his grip and carefully watches him, he knows that he is bruised and has surely inadvertently hurt him.

“Are you ok? Where does it hurt?” He asks because of course, the first thing he should have looked at is the state of his friend. He separates a little and begins to carefully feel the face full of scratches and bruises, moving his hands to the nape and shoulders when he finds no complaint.

Bucky leans back against the tree, limp and too dazed to think. His tongue… sparks, to define it somehow, and he notices a ticklish shingles on his neck and back that spreads to the extremities. He gazes down at his hands, where he has begun to rub his fingers against his thumbs, curious how his sensitivity has begun to change in them.

Steve curses under his breath. He has already found bruises unbuttoning part of the collar of the torn thick fabric T-shirt that Bucky is wearing, and a trace of dried blood that seems to come from the nape of his neck.

And then his nose picks up on something.

Absolutely paralyzed, as if any movement might scare him, he looks up to meet the strangely bright eyes of his best friend.

“You are...” Bucky licks his lips that have abandoned the pale color they had until now to become pinker, more alive “Are you an alpha now?” He had not finished speaking when his smell begins to change to a thick and intoxicating perfume, the pupils dilating and taking on a new shine.

Steve ... Steve is amazed when Bucky licks his lips slowly, moistening them to stand out in brightness and color, increasingly red and juicy. He opens them to take in more air, and to do this he lifts his head and chin subtly, exposing Adam's apple and the entire length of his neck. Steve can see the beard and the three small moles that he has always had at the base of his left ear.

And with a small movement of the chin of barely twenty degrees, Bucky shows him the naked white jugular in such an erotic gesture that Steve immediately begins to have a considerable problem between the pants.

His new lungs gasp hard like he's been hit in the stomach, but that only leads him to breathe in more of Bucky's pheromones that are flying right now demanding a male.

"...Bucky..." He finds himself unable to say anything else. An electric current is born from his skull and spreads through his face, back and arms. His hypervigilance increases to a new limit in Steve and he stands tall, shoulders back, raising his head attentively and being aware of every little noise or scent trace that could endanger his omega.

Or that means competition.

In some impossible way, his senses warn him that about 5 km there is still a fight. He can hear screaming and smells blood, sweat, and gasoline. The battle is not over yet. And his brain provides him also that there is a high concentration of testosterone, more than 30 alphas. A growl rumbles in his chest and comes out loud and clear between his lips. He can't allow them to get close to where they are, he thinks, feeling cold anger that curls in his chest and make the adrenaline pump his heart faster. He can do this, he knows without even thinking as his hands are tearing the anti-odor plasters from each secretory gland.

He frees his wrists when he takes off his gloves, as well as the leather jacket that hinders him to unfasten his Captain America suit, armpits, and neck exposed. His hormones have gone haywire and the glands generate an odor so intense and hostile that no one will dare to enter his space. He lets them fly away, take up as much space as possible.

He needs time.

His senses also alert him to the rapid gallop of his mate's heart and his fast breathing. His hands are on the trunk of the tree on which he leans, nervously rubbing the rough and cold bark covered with lichen. He is unconsciously marking the trunk. Bucky looks at him out of the corner of his eye with his neck still exposed, in his perfume, there is a new shade that catches Steve's attention in the worst way. Anxiety emanates from him, a bitter smell like beer, unworthy to be found in his delicious omega fragrance.

Nononono, he can't allow him to be afraid. Bucky is safe. He has to make him understand that he is safe, that he will never allow anyone to harm him.

Steve invades Buck's personal space, pinning him against the tree trunk with his own body, torso to torso. He takes the brunette's restless hands and brings them to his face, dragging them over his cheeks, his eyelids, kissing the palms and fingers, making his blond hair backcomb. Allowing him to mark him as his.

He should make him feel good, safe.

Confident.

He buries his nose back into Bucky's exposed, white, silky neck. His thick lips brush against the smooth skin and feel the change in texture when he reaches the beard, making the delicate skin of the lips tingle. All that jugular showing off shamelessly has him bewitched and he bites softly, thus earning a small moan and a trembling of legs. Steve notices fingers and nails gripping his mane for a few seconds, before continuing to spread his fingers in a reflexive, relaxing gesture.

His omega likes it, Steve's ego purrs with satisfaction. After all, he's big and strong, and he has a lot to offer him.

Steve takes a deep breath, digging his nose across the surface of the neck, licking and kissing. Buck's breath shakes as his hands continue to roam around Steve's neck and back. The smell of anxiety almost completely disappearing when Steve's hands are the ones that begin to firmly caress the hot skin under the shirt, dirty and frayed. The blonde's fingers play with the scant hair that still remains on his torso, his nipples erect each time his thumbs pass over them in circular, firm, and stimulating movements.

Until his palms touch his back. Bucky lets out a small whimper of pain, shrinking in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

His hands leaving Steve's body.

He cannot allow this.

“Shhhhhhh, everything is fine, easy” Steve stammers “I protect you” He doesn’t even pay attention to the nonsense he says as he carefully grabs the curb of the shirt.

But he can't help but growl when he picks up Bucky's fucking shirt to find a map of cardinals going from residual yellow to deep purple. He doesn’t ask permission to pull the shirt up, away from the delicate skin of his omega. He wants to see the extent of damage inflicted and burn it into his retinas to remember the next time he has Schmidt in front of him

Bucky's face twists in pain the moment he reaches up to remove his shirt. And when he turns him gently, he has a close-up of the three elongated bruises that mark his back. They are dark red and quite inflamed, they must not be two days old. He runs his fingertips feather-like over the wounds they find, but Bucky hisses in pain under his breath anyway, flinching. Fucking hell, now he's so thin...

_Comfort, distract, protect_ , order Steve's brain.

Immediately the blonde surrounds him with his arms, those that have been created to hug and protect. To hold and warm. He presses Bucky's bare back against his own chest as he firmly rubs his cheeks through the brunette's hair and whispers good, reassuring things in his ear. His voice is low, almost a whisper. He bites into the back of his neck hard enough to make Bucky moan loud and clear as the hands firmly caress his torso and gently pinch the nipples, causing his friend to arch his back against Steve's chest and let out little whimpers.

When he releases it from his bite, Bucky is panting and rests the nape of his neck in the crook of Steve's neck, turning his chin and giving him full access to his neck.

Provoking.

His butt is rubbing unabashedly against the prominent bulge that the Captain America costume can't hide. Steve supplies more of the gentle nibbles that give him goosebumps, producing a velvety sensation when caresses, and the nipples even harder.

"...Steve..." he whispers between sighs.

_I will be worthy_. It's the last coherent thought he has as he notices Buck's left hand stroking his thigh, impatiently, shakily tugging at his tights. Steve smiles happily, nuzzling his neck and chin, nibbling his ear… and licking the gland behind it.

The explosion of flavor that blows up in his tongue and brain cannot be compared to anything Steve has ever experienced in the world. It fills him with excitement and urgency that pulls at his guts and bends him, overpowers him. He needs Buck to open up for him. He needs to be skin to skin, reaching his core has become a vital physiological need.

He’s not even aware that he’s howling.

He bites down firmly on the base of Buck's neck, almost piercing the skin. His mate lets out a strangled cry, closing his eyes tightly. He clings shakily to the arm that holds him by his chest as Steve's right-hand searches for the fly of his military trousers, unbuttoning them impatiently. It's not difficult, Bucky has lost weight and the Nazis were left with everything the prisoners could use as weapons, including belts.

Finally, he can reach under the fabric of his lover's pants, stroking and scratching the inside of the thighs without Steve's jaw ever leaving its grip, wheezing through his teeth.

The sensation of having his alpha's claws so close to his cock, just fiddling with his pubic hair and not actually touching it bothers him and pleases him at the same time, hissing hard when he feels the furrows left by Steve’s nails.

And he rubs against the great body that promises to devour him.

Steve notices the enthusiasm and moves Bucky's own pheromone-laden hand to bring his wrist in front of him, the secretory glands working at full speed making them swollen and shiny wherever the charge overflows. He lets go of the bite with which he was holding Buck, driving his lips to his ear.

"Suck" he orders, deep and breathless, his voice pregnant with lust.

Buck doesn't even try to resist. It doesn't matter whether or not Steve used The Voice, too lost in desire, need, and delight. His legs are jelly and Steve's hands, hot and soft, run over his skin causing waves of chills and pleasure. When the wrist is on his lips, he just licks and sucks.

And screams.

His mouth burns and his eyes water. The flavor is intense, thick as if he had a large vanilla bean the size of a tennis ball in his mouth, and a plate of toasted caramel hooked to the palate occupying his airways.

His veins.

His heart races and he gasps loudly for air. His body spasms and if it weren't for Steve's strong grip he would have collapsed to the ground. Buck's shaking hand reaches for the blond hair, fingers tearing through and pulling demandingly against his own neck as if he wanted to cover himself with Steve's very skin. He accommodates into the large torso that promises strength and security and presses his head against Steve's chin. He claims his place, demanding attention.

He raises his second arm to grip the powerful neck and arches his back, spreading his legs and rubbing his butt against the alpha's crotch.

He shows off.

The alpha holds him with his arm across his chest, his eyelids fluttering as he enjoys the overwhelming scent that comes from the gland that he is exploiting. The perfume has changed and he will kill for him, he knows for sure when he finds that the fingers that have returned to Buck's crotch to caress the balls and the cleft temptingly are wet and slimy.

Steve smiles.

He has been judged worthy.

He drops his lover's already unbuttoned pants. At last, it is his turn to release his aching cock and carelessly lowers the tights that imprison it, noticing the cold contrast of temperatures that makes him hiss when it’s naked.

He presses Buck's body against the fir tree, compressing him with his own and finally freeing him from the bear hug. He needs both hands.

The short brown ringlets are wet between his fingers and long enough to be firmly grasped, immobilizing him without resistance, soft and obedient like a kitten. He turns his head to reveal more of that submissive, erotic neck, now irritated and shiny from Steve's saliva and the sweat beading down his back. All he needs to do is tuck one of his knees between Bucky's legs to make room for him, the omega's hands back on the bark scratching and stroking.

Panting and ready.

With his other hand, Steve guides his big and sensitive cock and passes it through the groove of the ass, wet and warm. He tries to take a deep breath when he watches mesmerized his dick indulgently rubs against his butt.

And he introduces himself without haste but with determination.

Something in his core explodes. The feeling of fullness and belonging is overwhelming. They both scream in surprise and delight, freezing as they accommodate to each other and feeling a new sensation never experienced.

Bucky notices some scratches on the sensitized skin of his chest and face, the bark is not kind and he trembles like a leaf. But it doesn’t matter; something inside him is undone, making him purr with pleasure at the weight and heat on his back.

It seems his lungs are not big enough to breathe in all the air he needs. It has entered without problems, reaching the bottom. It's huge in both girth and length, but Bucky's body is greedy and he just thinks of all the good he can get out of it.

Steve slowly retreats, now with one hand on the buttock to pull it away for a better view and getting aroused by the intense fragrance. Its length comes out bright in the firelight, drenched in slick when leaves the warm pressure of Bucky's body. He doesn't let it out at all, no. He has a duty.

He thrusts again, a little harder, screaming when he bottoms out again on that perfect ass. It's so good, it's so perfect to hear Bucky moan, honeyed and satisfied; he impulsively yanks his hair and his head falls gently back, moaning even louder. His lashes tremble and his lips are parted in an expression of pure pleasure.

He’s doing well.

He starts with an easy but deep rhythm on each lunge. The most important thing is to hit rock bottom, where his lover falls apart. Where his core is. Buck's body cannot evade the pressure despite the heavy lunge, limited as he is by the tree. But he can push back with each thrust, causing Steve's huge cock to penetrate him even deeper.

An obscene sound escapes from his lips when Steve's hand finds his cock and begins to stroke the glans. Bucky feels a tide of pleasure running through every cell of his body. He whimpers and contracts and Steve notices how Bucky's orgasm causes waves of spasms in his vagina, getting a rippling pressure on his cock that makes him moan and the pleasure nearly overflowing.

Steve's hips get a faster beat.

He bites the bare shoulder hard, panting, licking, thrusting. There is no middle ground, he needs to be there. They need to meet.

He wants his lover…

No. His mate.

He wants him to blooms, to open up, uninhibited for him. Vulnerable and delicate, his very essence is what Steve seeks and he will not settle for less. He caresses every inch of skin he finds and Bucky reacts now that he's back into the rhythm, on the way to his second orgasm. Steve's hand is wet with cum, and his cock soaked with the slick, the friction is delicious.

He will not allow it to not be completely covered in his scent. Let everyone know who he belongs to.

The rhythm, now fast and relentless, makes them moan with each thrust and that only makes Steve's big cock even harder knowing that he is the one who is causing his mate to shiver and sob without shame or control. His entire body sparks like static electricity and he gets goosebumps when he notices Bucky's hand on his butt, teasing him.

So good.

So perfect.

He whispers nonsense into his ear, nibbling on his lobe and running his tongue over his ear. He lets him know how proud and happy he makes him feel, getting closer and closer to the explosive end that awaits them. He notices how the testicles are tight, hard, and ready to contract. Electricity and pleasure concentrating on his crotch and his heart.

Steve's body knows better than his thick brain. He needs to reach the depths of his body and heart

"Say my name," he whispers, he orders.

His lover gasps and obeys "Steve!" he yells, and Steve complies. He bites deep where his yearning calls for, digging his teeth into flesh and blood, howling through his teeth possessively at the sweet, ferrous taste of his mate on his tongue. Swallowing everything that Bucky's body and soul give him, without losing a millimeter.

Alert.

Buck howls too, a short, tearing scream, interrupted when another devastating orgasm assails him and causes him to writhe and tremble, gasping his name again. His aroma demanding everything.

His sign.

Steve does what his biology tells him to do. He thrusts himself up to the hilt into the trembling body, crushing his mate against the fir that holds him. His knot only takes a few seconds to swell as the bite remains firm, forging its bond with blood. The alpha’s body contracts.

And with one more shallow thrust, he floods Buck with everything he has, gasping through his teeth and blood. As alpha, he spills his whole being into him to take root and claim, and possess and belong. His hands roam the skin, clawing and squeezing, holding. They are both trembling without bones.

Steve takes a ragged breath, his teeth still digging into his mate’s neck, practically holding him in a bear hug. Buck has orgasm after orgasm, hitting him like waves. Steve squeezes him tighter, penetrating deeper into his lover's body if possible, his hypervigilance aware of external stimuli and his mate's joy. Buck's body responds in turn, arching the back and contracting his vaginal muscles again, milking his alpha greedily.

Steve releases the bite when he knows their bond is complete, perfect, and shiny. He whispers in his ear how wonderful he is. How good he has been for him and how delicious he tastes. Steve licks the bleeding nape of his neck, spreading kisses down his skin and ears. Holding Buck in his arms feels natural, his perfume now complementary and blissful.

Steve's heart stutters. The most precious thing in his life is now in his arms and he has been gifted with his whole being forever. He never thought of being able to feel such deep emotion.

He feels blessed.

Finally, the knot begins to deflate but he keeps Bucky in his arms, stroking his hair and kissing his neck.

The pheromones start to fade and only then do they become aware of where they are and what they have been doing.

"Steve?" The spell is broken, hitting reality squarely. They are in the enemy camp, fleeing from a Nazi weapons factory, next to a burning building.

With their pants around the ankles.

“Yes Buck, I'm here pal” he notices a couple of shakes from Buck in his arms. He hugs him even more like an octopus. _Protect. Reassure. Provide_ , his body commands him.

“Steve, you can let me go. It's cold and I want to get dressed” asks his mate. No, his friend!

"Bucky, fuck, I’m sorry!" Steve apologizes with a red face with embarrassment. His lover's soft thighs get wet with cum and slick when Steve pulls out his cock, now soft and satisfied. The scent is glorious.

He feels awkward as he tries to reposition his Captain America costume. Everything seems unreal. Silence has spread between them as Bucky pulls up his pants and struggles to put on his threadbare shirt. Steve helps him diligently, but it pains him to see that their bond is covered up, hidden. Like he's ashamed of Steve instead of showing it so the world knows he's proud of his alpha.

Then Steve’s able to understand what he has done. The scale of his actions.

Bucky's bonded with Steve for life.

...

And he wasn't even able to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked it! This chapter was the trigger for all the fic. I wanted to give some context, and here we are!  
> Next chapter: drama.


	7. Sergeant Barnes

The cold of November gives goosebumps where clothes don’t cover. The only source of light in the dead of night is the tremendous fire from which they have fled and to which Bucky seems to want to return. In the sky, the smoke hides the moon and the stars, and the light is insufficient to even see the hands of the clock that Steve carries. Nor is it that he is going to pay attention to it; Steve is absorbed in admiring how the eyes of his best friend he has mated twinkle, illuminated by flames as he just adjusts his clothes leaning against a tree. He has his gaze fixed on the terrible fire that has already consumed much of the building. Bucky's pale, dirty face shows a frown and distant eyes, pensive and calculating.

His heart clenches and his guts knot. He should... he should redeem himself, beg him for forgiveness. Assume the consequences of his actions. He should do many things and everything at once, but his head is thick as puree and it only allows him to gaze at his... his mate in fascination.

He knows his relationship with him is shaky. There has always been a deep friendship, lots of complicity, and fierce loyalty. And they have consoled themselves, of course. In the same way that Buck put cold water cloths on him when he had a fever, they also comforted themselves when omega heat struck. What were they going to do but help each other? Being in heat alone was heartbreaking, emotionally, and physically terrible. So they consoled each other because the alternative was to suffer.

But what had he just done?

That hadn't been comfort. That hadn't been help, or relief. That had been Steve taking and taking, and taking because his hormones had told him he could.

That it was his right and his duty.

He must fix what he has done. He must... he must try, save their mortally wounded friendship.

Bucky's eyes, big and bright, focus on him.

He sees the expression change from calculating to disgusted as soon as it rests on his face, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed on his lashes; the exotic lips, still reddish, slightly wrinkled in a typical expression of disgust. Buck was never very good at hiding his expressions, his face was not designed to hide things but to show each and every one of the emotions of the heart and of life.

Steve swallows trying to undo the lump in his throat. His dry mouth doesn't help, and neither does the fear that runs down his spine.

“Buck, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I don't understand how I've lost control in this way...” stammers Steve, who doesn't even know what to do with his hands.

Bucky has a déjà vu. So small and with his shoulders hunched he almost resembles 7-year-old Steve who broke his father's pocket watch, just as terrified. So guilty.

Something inside Bucky shakes against that show of weakness. His friend always had a huge spirit, one that overflowed from that small body he had before. But now? This body is not made to be ashamed.

Regret and guilt.

That's what Bucky sees when he looks at his blonde friend.

And he hates it.

But Bucky is not in the mood for nonsense. He needs to focus. He was always good at concentrating so that's what he will do, one problem at a time. He approaches Steve decisively and doesn't hesitate to grab his chin and lift it unceremoniously. And he looks him straight in the eye.

“Rogers, get a move on! We are in a war zone and right now there is no time for lamentation” Buck's eyes are hard and he uses the voice of a sergeant. And Sergeant Barnes knows how to firm up an insecure soldier.

“So get your shit together because if my men have at least half the brain of a syphilitic mosquito, they'll go back to the factory” He doesn't let go of his chin and holds his gaze, hard and determined. Surprisingly, he has to look up himself; Steve is even taller than him now, something he hadn't realized.

Steve looks at him confused, but Bucky sees the moment when he puts aside his doubts and guilt and makes a decision. Curiously, it’s like watching the movement of a glacier, once has taken a course nothing can change it. And Steve's gaze now has an understanding of the situation that makes him useful and trustworthy, but he needs him to forget about the stupid insecurity that has undoubtedly embedded itself in that pretty blonde head, so he will give him something else to worry about.

"And when we get back to the base, you are going to explain to me why the hell are you in Italia instead of Brooklyn, you jerk" he threatens. He abandons the proud, hairless chin to focus on the here and now. They have problems that Steve doesn't seem to notice so he's going to have to pull the chestnuts out of the fire, as always.

Of course, there are things that don't change.

Fortunately, Buck is feeling much better and is barely limping. He looks around for alternatives, weighing options.

"We have to move, Steve." Bucky's gaze is focused again, searching for something around him. Once he finds it he knows what he should do. "We must get to those vehicles" says Bucky as he looks back at the corner of the factory they have managed to flee from. Just thinking about going back to the place makes his muscles seize, but they must succeed. He needs it.

They advance cautiously toward the great burning building armed only with a pistol. It has been a while since nothing comes close to the clearing, so they head towards the pair of vehicles they have left behind, but the totally unprotected situation in the yard they are in makes them vulnerable, so they don't really feel safe. Steve, in a display of chivalry or stupidity, leads the way by hiding behind the ridiculous atrezzo shield. He's not even going to argue about it knowing it's a losing battle, but he believes that if he's able to take a couple of bullets, it will be worth the effort to carry it here.

They arrive safely at the military jeep and immediately Buck gets into it, rummaging in the glove compartment. Steve quickly takes the wheel of the car and prays that the keys are in, but this is clearly not the case. While he is looking for them in the car (there are very lazy people who could have simply hidden them under the seat) he finds a rifle at the foot of the back seat and shows it to his friend, who leaves it leaning on the passenger seat.

"Wait Stevie, you stand guard and let me know if someone is coming" Bucky asks as he hands him the gun, and with the filthy rag, he found in the glove compartment he gets out of the jeep. He easily opens the plug where the gas tank is located and inserts the cloth, leaving a corner out. Steve gets out of the car and does as they ask, but he can't help but stare at Buck. He doesn't quite understand what he's up to.

If Steve's glands smell as potent as they taste, it's going to be hard to camouflage his fragrance. Bucky opens the hood of the car and takes out the oil dipstick. It’s not hot so he smears his hands and shoves them down his pants. He only hesitates for a moment, evoking the intense pleasure that had left him breathless and boneless, locked in his alpha's torso. Remembering the bite on his neck makes his skin crawl with a chill.

But Bucky shakes his head "Come on, focus," he says to himself in a low voice, his lizard brain still searching for excuses not to get rid of Steve's scent and trail, damn it. This is not the time or place to be overwhelmed by anxiety or doubt.

He knows what can happen and will not allow it, so he clenches his jaw and rubs the motor oil down his thighs still wet with Steve's sperm, repeating the operation three more times until he has covered all the skin that can give them away with the dark, stinky liquid.

He closes the hood and heads for the rag left in the gas tank. He knows that he is being watched by his friend but he is not going to check. He doesn't need to feel guilty right now. He moves over to the side of the jeep and grabs the now gasoline-soaked rag. He drains it off and starts rubbing it over his face, neck, hair, and torso. The liquid is cold against his skin but there is no other way. Fortunately, without smell, he will not suffer the discomfort of the intense stench either. Still, he must make sure to get his goal.

His hand only shakes a little when he gently runs it over the mating bond, his heart making a short whimsical leap. And he looks at Steve, unsure.

He is watching him intently, his face unreadable. Bucky has always been able to read it as an open book but he realizes that now Steve's features have changed. His chin is wider and more square, the eyebrows thicker and the eyes more unfathomable. He will have to learn to read his friend again.

"What are you doing?" Steve asks without understanding. There is no reproach in his voice, thank God. He doesn’t believe that now he can handle an argument himself without breaking the dam behind which he has locked all the pain and fear and exhaustion. Everything he has lost.

Everything that has happened to him.

So take a breath of air and hold like a wild boar “I protect us from a blue discharged” he informs in a quiet voice raising an eyebrow as if it were obvious. Buck hands him the gasoline-soaked rag and points to the bond. He knows that he has bled and is unable to see if he has cleaned everything up properly. Steve walks over to him and takes the rag in his hand. "What is a blue discharge?" he asks as he gets behind Bucky's back and lowers the neck of his sweater as far as the seams allow, cleaning the area carefully, almost reverently.

Bucky gasps between disbelief and laughter. "You have no idea where you've gotten yourself into, do you?" He scoffs affectionately. He lowers his head a little to make his work easier. “When you are discharged from the Army for homosexuality, they print your license on a nice blue paper. In this way, it’s very easy for others to know that you have been discharged with dishonor and thus they can deny you government benefits, or screw your life so that you can never find work again” Steve's hands do not hesitate for a moment, but Bucky can almost hear the gears in his brain in an infighting. Yeah, Stevie must be outraged now. But it would be naive to expect fairness in the Army where, to begin with, they already reject omegas and discriminate against women.

He moves a little under the pressure of the cloth since the area is still sore. "Stevie, am I still smelling?" He asks almost shyly. Although he is actually within walking distance, his friend brings her nose close to the surface and inhales. The effect is immediate, while Bucky gets goosebumps, Steve takes a few steps back with his hand covering his nose, white as paper. "God, you stink of gasoline," he confirms giddy as drunk.

"Do you think my scent would give me away?" He asks, still worried. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, a familiar and reassuring gesture. "I don't even smell me, Buck ..." he confirms with shadowed eyes.

Yes, that is another bridge they have to cross, a pending conversation, but not in a war zone. And it will definitely be a success if the blonde supernose can't find a trace of him, so he takes the opportunity to change the subject. "Do you know where the hell the rest of 107th is?" He asks, looking around him. The hearing and sight of him have not detected any signs and the explosions have long ceased. Steve clears his throat and looks in a very specific direction. “I previously detected a large mass of people about 5 km to the southwest, but they have been getting closer. I estimate that they will be about 5 or 10 minutes from here”

Buck stares at him in amazement. "Are you cheating on me?" He asks in utter disbelief, then frowns when he remembers the impossible jump. "What other miracles can you do now?" He asks him suspiciously.

“Well...” smiles the idiot “I can lift a Harley with three gals on top...” Buck looks at him raising an eyebrow and giving a soft hiss of admiration. He never doubted the truth of Steve's words, implausible as it may seem. Steve is still smiling shy but confident. He shrugs his shoulders “I told you, I joined the Army”

So much punk!

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence when Steve turns his head and jerks into alertness. Buck doesn't need any more to abandon the rag and grab his friend from the shattered jacket, dragging him to the safety of the jeep. He takes the rifle in his hands and points towards where Steve has faced while his friend raises the shield and also points the pistol.

“I hear a large group, perhaps more than 50 men. I don't get their scents” whispers Steve. They don't know if they are allies or enemies, but Bucky seems to believe in his luck today because he puts his fingers to his lips and emits a couple of loud, shrill whistles with a particular cadence. Steve looks at him in disbelief, knowing that he may have given away his position. "What the hell are you doing ?!" the blonde snaps with a worried face. Yet Bucky grins wildly when another pair of whistles answer him in some kind of code. Bucky lowers the gun and confidently steps out to meet the approaching crowd. Steve lowers the gun when his enhanced eyesight realizes that they are the men from the 107 that he himself has rescued.

He knew that his friend had learned to use a whistle code during the months that he worked as a docker. Creating a code and sharing it with men he trusts is evidence of the cunning Bucky always displayed.

The former is in a hurry to approach, content and confident, and are soon surrounded by men, many of them clapping and half-hugs, afraid of pushing too hard and doing harm.

"Damn Sarge, we thought we lost you!"

“It’s a joy to see you, Sergeant!”

"Barnes, I knew weeds are not killed by the frost...” a huge man, with a showy red-haired mustache and bowler hat, stands in front of Bucky and puts his arm around his neck. The small and lively eyes contrast with the slow movements of which he shows. After a hug, he smiles big and pleased. Other men are approaching, but Bucky returns to Steve's side, who is also receiving thanks from the soldiers he managed to free. Steve finds that Bucky has earned the sympathy of his unit, although he cannot help but stretch and square his shoulders in front of the other red-haired alpha who, despite not being the only one who has been entertaining Bucky, has undoubtedly been the most daring and seems to have some kind of affection for him.

Another hiss from Buck and people shut up to pay attention.

“As many of you already know, this is Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. He has come a long way to free those sad asses of yours, so do not be ungrateful and show that you can do more than tie your boots. Attention!” Buck's voice is clear and firm, and seeing the respect he inspires among his people, Steve feels proud. But the hundreds of eyes that watch him curiously and silently snap him out of his thoughts.

Steve is once again the center of attention, but these faces have little to do with the smiling children or tired parents who came to see his performance at the theater. These are exhausted, starving, and wounded soldiers.

“The good news is that we are heading towards the base camp where a good hot plate and a bed await you. The bad part is that they are 50 km of rocks, snow, and enemies. It will not be easy but we will not leave anyone behind. So I'm confident in your ability and tenacity to survive” Steve knows how to talk to a crowd by now, and they seem to be encouraged by the escape.

"Come on ladies, get to work!" Bucky starts yelling, his eyes shining harshly. “The injured and those who know first aid to the right near the grove. Those who know how to make a bridge to an engine, go with squadrons 3, 4, 12, and 15. Make useless everything that does not serve us as a vehicle. Squads 8, 6, 13, and 14, find water and supplies, and if it can be gasoline too. Squads 1, 2, and 5, protect the wounded. The others, with us” he says as he made sure of the ammunition that the weapon has and places it ready for action. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes knows his men and distributed the survivors efficiently. And although the soldiers look at Steve with curiosity and appreciation, they receive their instructions from his Sarge. "Let's clean the place" Steve added softly with a frown.

He's not going to risk an attack from behind while they evacuated all these people.

Obviously, 50 km with half the soldiers wounded and who have not seen a decent meal in a week they can’t do it at once. During the afternoon of the first day, they make the first stop to rest, but Steve doesn’t sleep. He didn't need it either, it seems like he could lend a hand to each group of soldiers, so he does. From moving supplies to moving from head to tail with instructions. His body doesn't feel fatigued and his mind is a bustle of ideas and responsibility.

By contrast, he doesn't see Bucky rest. They have exchanged just a few words, mostly focused on the immediate needs of their group, but quickly have fallen into a mutual understanding between them, a dynamic not too far from the one they have had all their lives. It's easy for Bucky to follow Steve and complement him. Steve on the part of him feels safe and supported, and appreciates the pragmatism of his friend.

But Bucky had already gone through a terrible experience and yet he doesn't rest, showing himself useful and brilliant, putting the bests in the most necessary tasks. And even he takes one of the night watch shifts. When Steve realizes it he became concerned, reaching out to try to convince him of the benefits of a few hours of sleep.

"Hey, shouldn't you be getting some rest, pal?" He says in a low and soft voice as he handed him a canteen. Bucky still has marks on his face and is dirty with oil. The brunette looks at him and smiles. “The same could tell you, ‘Captain’. I think you've already done more for them than their own mother” Steve smiles softly “I don't know if I'm willing to take the role of your holy mother so you can take a break, you imitate her much better than me...” Bucky's lips twist roguishly. It's clear that he has reminded him of home and one of the many shenanigans they did when they were young (and not so young).

It's strange to see Bucky with that sloppy fuzz across his face. He was always impeccably shaven, which favored his firm chin and the beautiful dimple in his chin. “Seriously, you should get some rest. I can stand guard, I'm not tired”

"Oh, do you think these pretty eyes only serve to win over the chicks?" Bucky winks at him and Steve rolls his eyes, back with the same give and take from the last 15 years of his life. “You know that this pair of blue jewels has one of the best ranges of this army. To that, we add my consummate skills as a sniper and my captivating charm and that is what has led me to become a sergeant, one of the youngest, I must say” The brunette boasts, not without sarcasm. “Of course that may not be enough to star in a movie or two like some others, but I hope that with the invaluable help of Captain America I will soon come to rub shoulders with, I don't know, Greta Garbo or Hedy Lamar” A loving nudge and a couple of very insightful raised eyebrows accompanied by a big smile are enough to make Steve laugh, who slams his hand into his face and pushes him a bit to shut up. But Bucky's face turns serious before pointing to a soldier who seems to be looking for someone.

“It seems they need you, Stevie” He stays firm to salute him martially “I mean, Captain”

Despite everything, a smile dances on his lips again.

"You're terrible Bucky," he says, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows like the long-suffering friend that he is, and he goes to meet the soldier who is looking for him.

He is required at the end of the march, so he looks Bucky to explain it out, but he's gone.

In the morning they march again. Steve has already put his helmet back on and checks that the soldiers are ready to move. He runs into Bucky and his platoon, including the big redhead, heavily armed at the headboard. His friend seems relaxed chatting with them and even sees a fleeting smile, but the severe dark circles under his eyes are a clear indication of how little he has slept that night, probably not the first or the second. Steve is worried about him. He's being elusive and no matter how much he tries to hide it, he knows the damn mulish is hurt. He walks over to them, patting his friend's shoulders lightly, more to comfort himself than because Buck needs encouragement. Even so, he notices that with the little force that he has exerted the brunette staggers, although he covertly composes himself and looks at him between surprised and offended. "Someone had a strong breakfast today, huh?" He says slyly, earning a couple of snorts from his men.

"Will you do us the honor of leading the way, Captain?" asks one of them, a lanky man with a marked British accent. Falsworth if he remembers correctly.

"Are you afraid of getting lost on the way?" Steve smiles looking at his friend who is already rolling his eyes with the shadow of a smile on his lips. And yes, he leads the way, easily falling into the leadership of the group as if it were the natural place that he falls, with Bucky on his left and together with the platoon of his friend, the most irreverent and courageous soldiers he has known until now. He's not surprised that with them Bucky feels in his element.

Finally, they arrive in a beautiful and exhausted formation, greeted by cheers and surrounded by the companions who managed to escape the attack.

Steve is pleased, they have succeeded, and is patting his friend on the back, encouraging him, proud of how he has endured the journey. There is quite a stir but everyone falls silent when Colonel Phillips arrives. Steve knows that he hasn't the man's sympathy and that he has overlooked his authority, so he decides not to give him more reason to piss him off.

"Some of these men need medical attention" he said as he is being evaluated by the old alpha. With resignation, he adds “I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action”

The grave and contrite posing seem to pay off because the Colonel says it isn't necessary and takes a great burden off him. Grateful, Steve looks up only to see Agent Carter in front of him, looking at him everywhere with those beautiful eyes, perhaps evaluating if he has any injuries, but glad to see him again although his tone of voice implies otherwise.

"You're late" she says demandingly. But it isn't Steve's fault that he couldn't use the portkey to communicate the situation they were in. And they couldn't have all fit on the rescue plane, either, so he really doesn't feel bad about handing it in a wreck.

"Let’s hear it for Captain America!" Bucky yells next to him, and everyone starts cheering and clapping as he looks at him with the patented smile "did you think you were going to get away?" that Steve knows well. The atmosphere is happy and festive, today they lived to see a new day, something that just 48 hours before did not seem possible. Steve is grateful for the ovation, of course, but most of all for what it means. He has managed to do the right thing and that had saved lives.

A tide of people come over to give him a friendly pat on the back before being dragged by Agent Carter into the command tent. When he turns to seek Bucky's support he couldn't find him anywhere. He hopes at least he was sensible enough to go to the infirmary.

.oOo.

"Let’s hear it for Captain America!" Buck yelled and more than 200 soldiers began to cheer and applaud, surrounding them full of relief and gratitude. Steve had kept his word and brought them back. Steve's embarrassed and grateful smile was worth seeing, but Bucky doesn't stick around long enough.

He has already seen too much for his liking.

Surrender for disciplinary action? A clever move against Colonel Phillips, who was smart and experienced but a pain in the ass. The Colonel doesn't tolerate insubordination, much less a challenge to his dominance.

But the brunette who ogle at Steve? And the idiot grinning in awe and guilt? Oh yeah, they know each other. His whole posture is of interest to Steve and...

Oh, how he looks at her...

Well, he can already stick her up his arse, she will surely be delighted with the idea.

"You're late" the gal said with an almost childish impertinence, and just remembering it cold anger constricts his guts. So he bit his cheek and cheered on Captain America, because… why not? At least he would break this… sexual tension or whatever and give him the perfect opportunity to disappear because it was clear that he's not needed. Bucky could have vomited bile at this point.

He can't appear in the infirmary because, evidently thanks to Steve, he sports a nice newly created mating mark on his neck, still swollen and painful. And while alphas sometimes bite anyone they are fucking, it wouldn't spare him from a deeper review that would definitely give him away. Yes, omega men were similar to males, but not the same if you look closely.

And attention right now isn't what he wants. And the one he would have been grateful to have is centered on a busty brunette with a wasp waistband.

Well, he doesn't really want that attention, either. He doesn't want Steve's guilt or regret.

He prefers to be alone with his misery.

He grabs the change of clothes and the bar of soap and the first place he visits is the shower even though his guts are rumbling, checking that there is no one there. He still has some time between the show and the injuries so he's going to spend his time figuring out how to get rid of the medical checkup. The boys know they have been questioning him, probably torturing him. And Steve has seen the wounds and bruises on his torso. He won't let it go.

He rudely removes his clothes that stink of gasoline and when the warm water finally hits him he washes his grimy, matted hair. As the soap works, he focuses on his skin, on his own body. His hands are full of scab and calluses. He had bruises on his arms where they injected him with that shit but his veins seem fine. The small scar under his left arm has gone unnoticed and his skin is perfectly fine, it’s nothing more than a small silver line. There is still hair on his chest, although less than a few months ago. He was never very hairy anyway. He has a torso full of hematomas and a couple of cuts but they seem to be healing properly. Even bruises have better color. His pubic hair is fine, but his groin is still soaked with motor oil. He scrubs the bar of soap over and over, angrily. It's not until his skin is red from scratching that most of the oil is gone. His legs have some bruises too, and his feet are still whole although the nails need trimming. He thanks the heavens for having a blind nose; probably the stench would be traceable for miles.

And there comes the moment that he has feared, when he is alone with himself and no one to lie to. When he has to examine himself after his first sexual intercourse with an alpha. His mind races with all the information he remembers about sex and its dire possibilities.

His fingers carefully remove the skin that protects his cock (his clitoris in fact), carefully cleaning the recesses and ignoring the ticklish sensitivity that it has. Behind the balls, the outer lips are properly and also clean with plenty of soap. When he reaches the sphincter of the vagina he swallows hard and nervous; his hands shake a little and he closes his eyes so he can concentrate. One of the many things he has heard is that the temperature of the vagina increases with pregnancy, so he carefully lines up one finger and presses, inserting it all the way. He exhales and tries to discern if the temperature inside is different from usual, and then he realizes that he hasn't touched himself for so long that he doesn't know. On the other hand, he does notice more fluid than usual, a pleasant viscosity. He feels a chill of pleasure when he realizes that it’s Steve's sperm. His body likes to remember the blonde pressed against him, of course. But it's been more than 36 hours since they fucked... is it normal that there’s still so much sperm inside him?

And can his enhanced spermatozoon get over the birth control?

Questions flash through his head as he uses copious amounts of soap to wash away Steve's scent, freaking paranoid. He hasn't even finished drying himself off when he starts hyperventilating. He gets dressed quickly and locks himself in a bathroom stall as his vision fills with little colored lights. He sits in the latrine curled up and rubs his hands over his face, holding his breath, trying to control it. His cheeks are wet with tears that have unilaterally decided not-stop to flowing.

Steve ... his best friend, has looked at him terrified when he realized the monumental fuck up he had committed by bonding him. Obviously, the new alpha doesn't have those kinds of feelings for his childhood friend, no. The habit of comforting each other when they needed relief and not pain is the reason his friend used him in some kind of alpha outburst. What happened was a mistake and the serum was to blame but now it's Bucky who's terrified.

He swallows the pain and tears. He has to think about how to fix the mess they have got into, but his fucking mind only seems to work to remind him how the brunette has ogle Steve and how reciprocal it was.

Of course he was the object of desire, fucking Captain America seven feet tall and weighing 300 lb of certified muscle.

The tears don't stop, and he covers his mouth to keep from making noises. He feels vulnerable, broken, and abused, as if a wave of misery is about to engulf him.

But he can't break down now. He can’t.

They are going to demand a report. He will have to give details of his capture, of the experiments, of the bastards of Zola and Schmidt.

And he doesn't want to remember the long days at the fucking table he was tied to or the suspicious face of measured glee of the mad scientist who injected him with shit over and over and over again. He doesn’t want to remember the burning pain that ran through his body each time, or the machine that was put in his head to electrocute him. He does not want to remember the few conversations that he has understood.

 _Men don't cry_ , he tells himself. _Men don't cry_ , he repeats himself.

 _Men don't cry_ , he thinks as he remembers that it was always Stevie who was by his side to comfort him.


	8. Captain America

The afternoon is quiet at the camp. Steve can even see some timid rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds as he waits stoically at the command tent door for Colonel Phillips to address him.

They only had time to put on some anti-odor plasters before demanding the rescue report. In the command tent where the walls (if they can be called such) are barely made of damp cloth, Agent Carter receives her instructions. You don't need to have a super audition to hear that in a couple of hours they are moving to London to report the rescue of the prisoners of war and prepare their extraction for a full evaluation. They must also start planning the next move they will make since she is the contact with MI6.

While he waits, sees some soldiers with muddy boots and strange joy on their faces. Not surprisingly, the tension and sadness of the place has become lighter. Many have been reunited with their lost friends.

Just a few meters away, a couple of soldiers cross in front of him. Steve smiles when he is greeted martially, all straights and professionals, before continuing on his way. Steve thinks he recognizes the soldier who just two days earlier had been messing with his boots; his gaze is full of raw emotion.

The curtain moves to let the figure of Agent Carter pass. Steve can't help but straighten his back and stand up as tall as he is. The look he receives is intense, indecipherable.

"Good luck, Captain Rogers" she says as the corner of her thick lips rises almost imperceptibly.

"Good luck, Agent Carter" he answers in a deep voice. He doesn't know when he will see her again, but Steve owes her a lot. His debt is unpayable.

They only look away when the Colonel calls Steve, and he walks into the tent.

The smell of Colonel Phillips nearly hit him physically. The fragrance of rosemary and more subtly ash is not unpleasant, except for the undertone of anger in the background. Even so, it doesn't seem like a recent emotion, thank goodness.

The old alpha is busy writing some things in a well-bound journal and doesn't seem to be paying attention to Steve, so the blonde stands up and waits, staring straight ahead. It seems like a test of patience and impulsiveness, and Steve thinks he knows why. In the end, he had escaped from the camp to carry out a makeshift rescue after arguing with the Colonel, and on top of that, he had succeeded. So if being ignored is his punishment, he may well take it.

Colonel Phillips on the other hand has always been proud of his nose, at least his potato nose is highly functional. It has also served to smell fear, uncertainty, and sometimes even lies. And he is a good judge of character. It doesn't go unnoticed to Phillips that the smell of vanilla and toasted caramel that the Captain America costume gives off (which needs a wash) is infused with hints of fear, anger, and excitement. He doesn't want to know what Rogers and Carter have done to make the normally inflexible and stern Agent risk a reprimand, but the costume gives him all the information he needs.

It’s not easy to win the favor of Agent Carter so he doesn’t know very well how to take the man in front of him, now meek but not silly at all. He has a strong sense of justice rather than obedience. He is also brave, capable, imaginative, and emits that halo that born leaders have, something that the omega version of him lacked.

Chester Phillips sighs. It would also have been nice if they informed him of the subject's subgender change, although it’s not so strange that the ultimate version of a supersoldier is an alpha male.

He wonders if the late Doctor Erskine knew what would happen and so he chose the weak omega instead of more capable men. Definitely, his own candidate would not have escaped from the camp disobeying orders to rescue anyone.

But saving nearly 200 men has boosted troop morale, and once Agent Carter breaks the news, Senator Brandt will win more votes and America will love his hero even more.

He's barely written for five minutes when Captain Rogers fidgets uncomfortably and clears his throat slightly. Colonel Phillips briefly looks up and immediately returns to his papers, finishing his report and actively ignoring him. A short time later he fidgets again and looses the collar of his ridiculous costume a little more, his face tense.

"If you want I can come back later" Steve suggests uncomfortably.

Well, Mr. Perfect is not that perfect. He lacks the patience and discipline necessary in the army. But he can teach him that perfectly.

"I haven't dismissed you, so you are staying until I'm done with you. Don't worry, your fans will still be here by then” Colonel Phillips said ironically without even looking at him.

Steve's chin clenches knowing he's making fun of him, but he's in no position to just leave him standing at the tent to go tend to Buck. He knows the vague, indescribable prick to his chest and the next gentler waves that mean his omega is going through some kind of discomfort, but he can't go to comfort him now.

So he stands up and waits until almost fifteen minutes later the Colonel decides that he has humiliated him long enough and goes to him. "Well Captain Rogers, I want the exact account of what happened since you left this facility 2 days ago. And don't bother to omit Agent Carter" he adds, staring at him and establishing dominance over him.

Steve frowns but does as asked, obviously omitting everything related to the bond. Occasionally he is interrupted for some clarification but for the most part, he can narrate all the facts until he returns to the camp, at which time the Colonel begins to ask him questions about the prison camp, the enemy's facilities, and the weapons they used and have brought with them. Those are already in Howard Stark's hands, but Colonel Phillips wants to know what they're capable of.

"What's your opinion about Schmidt?" Colonel Phillips stops pacing the tent slowly and stands in front of Steve. The blonde remembers Bucky's incredulous face when he saw what was hiding under the mask.

Steve’s face hardens as well when he remembers his strength.

“He thinks he has left his humanity behind to become a god. He is dangerous, patient, and very strong” After his words, Phillips's eyebrow rises with curiosity. “He was able to knock me down with a single punch and deform the steel shield I carried. He also has a certain relationship with Arnim Zola, the scientist who is trying to recreate the serum under Schmidt's orders. He did not abandon him to his fate like the rest” Which is curious and it calls the attention of the Colonel, too.

Phillips's gaze then has a malicious glint “So Arnim Zola is a valuable asset for Schmidt?” Steve has no hesitation in answering “Yes Sir, Sergeant Barnes has confirmed that too”

“Ah, your friend. In the end, he's alive and your efforts have paid off, huh?” The old alpha smiles humorlessly.

“Sir, if my friend had been dead, there were still 200 captured men waiting for a rescue by their country”

Oh, touché, a good answer from the Captain. Now the men in the camp respect him, not like when he did the show with the showgirls.

"And you say that Sergeant Barnes was found in Zola's office tied to a table?" The memory returns to the mind of Steve, his friend practically unaware of him, abused. Tortured

"Yes sir" he says slowly, suspicious.

"Well, make him come, let's see how much information he has" Phillips orders. But Steve will not tolerate questioning Bucky in his current state. And less for an alpha with the Colonel's lack of tact.

“With all due respect, sir, Sergeant Barnes has been tortured God knows how long, and now he's in the infirmary. He would appreciate it if you could give him some time before questioning him. He needs to compose himself” And Steve feels that he must win this verbal battle because he doesn't want to know how far he is going to go to defend his partner.

"We can't afford the luxury of time, Captain Rogers" Phillips tells him with a flat, no humor in his voice. He knows what Steve says is true, but they need all the information they can ASAP. The lives of other soldiers depend on it.

"In that case, I'd rather be the one to question him, Colonel. I've known him all my life and I know how to talk to him without pressuring him” He says gravely. The tension fades from his chest when Phillips accepts.

"Okay, but in two days everyone will be evacuated and I want you at the London operations center. I await all the possible information” Colonel Phillips sits down slowly before returning his attention to his papers.

“You can go, Captain, and take care of your friend. The consequences of torture are not always visible” he says without looking at his face. Steve nods gravely. That's what he's going to do right now.

A few minutes later, the Colonel is at the supply tent trying to satisfy his cinnamon muffin whim.

.oOo.

When he leaves the tent it’s already starting to get dark. He hasn't realized all the time he's spent with Colonel Phillips and now Steve is more nervous. He knows that the pricks he felt in his chest were Bucky's emotions; as if a wall had been broken and all fear and pain had assaulted him at once, although now the wall seems to have been restored. He suspects that Bucky is not as well as he appears.

But he doesn’t find a trace of him or his presence. He isn’t in the infirmary like many of the rescued POWs; neither in the barracks nor in the quartermaster eating something. Has he deserted the camp?

The chill of anxiety that he feels sprouting up in his heart and spreading down his back makes him stand up and sniff the air again attentively as if his nose has become even more acute to find his mate. His omega.

There are a lot of alphas, a lot of testosterone; from the field hospital he also gets the fragrance of drugs, blood, and infection, and the feces of more than 300 soldiers, but he banishes all of them to find a single fragrance; the only one that matters. And damn the suppressor the trace is tiny.

At last, he finds it; apples, cinnamon, vanilla, and tobacco. The wind doesn't favor him but he knows that he’s able to find him now. And the moment he has his fragrance under his nose he wonders how the rest of the camp can't even notice the scent of a stressed omega as clear and razor-sharp. The only omega in 5 km around.

His.

And as he advances, he realizes that he is growling deeply because the pair of soldiers he crosses are moving quickly out of his way, exposing their throats in a clear sign of submission and raising their hands harmlessly.

He stops to mutter an apology, awkward and still uneasy in his own skin. He rationally knows that the super serum makes his nose finer than is humanly possible, and remembers that he had also not been able to smell Bucky so clearly before bonding with him. The surprises of the serum never end...

It's strange, Steve thinks as his feet and nose lead him to his friend, how his olfactory sensitivity has changed since the serum. Now he is able to smell every female that has an interest in him and is also compatible. As if suddenly all the females willing to beget his offspring were wearing a yellow hat. His lizard brain makes a point in a subroutine that Steve doesn't really pay much attention to

During his USO tour he noticed it with his fellow beta. He knew who was interested in him even before they opened their mouth, but it was something his brain just did. _"Noted, go on with your life."_ And that's what Steve did because he really didn't have much in common with them.

Before coming to the front lines, four of them were replaced by omega dancers. They were feminine, sensual, and sassy. And yes, his brain said, _"Noted, keep an eye on them"_ and he felt strangely protective of them, more than he did with his other companions. It was as if they were wearing yellow pamela hats. The more animal side of him liked omegas.

Carter? God, Peggy is like she's wearing a gold sequin dress. He never tires of looking at her, to listen to her. She is smart, attractive, and brave. She is strict but not rigid. The perfect combination of compatibility, availability, tenacity, and courage made her terribly attractive to Steve. Her brain told him: _"Noted, go for her"_

And he tries, even though he has no idea about women. He looks at her and wonders how a lady like her is available. Then smiles as he remembers the punch taken by a certain recruit who wanted to be too smart.

Steve believed he had only eyes for Peggy while, in his memory, Bucky was nothing more than his best friend, a brave and endearing idiot, the light beta scent of him reminding him of home. Maybe even Steve's first love, because you can't stand next to Bucky and not fall a little in love with that witty tongue and lively eyes.

But the moment Bucky's body reacted to him and he had his pheromones on his tongue? He knew he was made for him. His brain didn't tell him _"Noted and attentive"_ , no. It was like Bucky drove a damn yellow zeppelin and ran him over with it.

His lizard brain slapped him and yelled _"Take him before someone take him away because he must be yours"_

And even though it was absurd and hasty, at that moment he was afraid that Bucky would be claimed by another alpha. Because now that Bucky has woken up as an omega he will not seek the company of any girl, no. Now the object of his attention will be an alpha woman or a male, and in the army, he was surrounded by them.

Steve had never seen Buck look at a male with interest, and let's be honest; what Buck had done with Steve almost fell within the definition of charity.

But two nights ago? Bucky's stormy gray eyes had looked only at him. The red, battered lips had only screamed his name. And his glorious body had opened just for him.

His alpha.

Now it’s Steve's teeth that adorn his neck. Claiming. Swearing his whole life.

Steve will be the only one who will touch his white skin. Who will enjoy his warm flesh.

Who will hear him moan.

The memory of holding him in his arms, knotted as he rides ecstasy and contorts against his body puts him in a serious bind in his pants, horny and goosebumps. Luckily he's wearing the anti-odor band-aids because otherwise, the entire camp would have found out how excited Captain America is.

Thank you, brain, for noticing everything that could go wrong...

He stands in a tree to breathe and let the wave of excitement pass. His nose tells him that he is close to finding him smoking a cigarette, and it is not appropriate to show up with a tent in his pants if he wants to reassure him.

He doesn't know what he's going to do with Bucky.

Or rather, what is Buck going to do with him.

Knowing him, he's not going to let the army discharge him with honors. He, too, won't risk getting kicked out if they find out about his omega status. Steve, of course, is willing to cover it up.

He swore it.

But...

What if he decides to push Steve away from his side?

Steve feels the fear in his gut again and swallows with difficulty. First of all, he doesn't want to lose Bucky. He doesn't want to lose his friendship, his presence. He cannot disappear from his life.

He will do whatever it takes for it.

And that's why he has no choice but to let him make the choice. Regardless of the decision he makes, he will be by his side to help and protect him.

He just prays that Buck doesn't kick him out of his side, and not because he doesn't deserve it. Steve has abused him, literally. Bucky was in no condition to refuse or consent, and Steve's stupid body did what he wanted. He feels guilty and ashamed for having given in to his instincts, but he has no regrets.

Because now Bucky is his.

It's not going to be an easy ride. With Buck, nothing is simple when it refers to his subgenre. Steve doesn't even know if he thinks of his future as omega after the war is over.

Will Bucky want to share his life with him?

With the male who took away his freedom of choice?

Will he continue to see him as his best friend?

Steve takes a deep breath trying to calm himself down and drags his palm across the tree, focusing on the present. The air is thick with tobacco and humidity, the smell of undergrowth, and Bucky. Steve is nervous, anxious. He has no reason to think that his friend is going to disappear. They made their way back just three hours ago and Bucky's tongue was as sharp as ever.

Between the treetops, the last lights of the day are getting dimmer behind the clouds. Soon they will have difficulties to see where they step.

He takes a deep breath as he makes his way down what looks like a rabbit trail that leads to a small clearing where there are a few rocks comfortable enough to sit on. From what Steve smells in the air, the place is normally busy with soldiers taking his time with a cigarette, although now it does not seem that there is anyone but Bucky. The condensation comes out of the mouth; it's getting colder every moment and it gives him the feeling that his friend has been here much longer than a couple of cigars have the right to exist.

On one side of the clearing, on a rock surrounded by low yellowish grass, Bucky's figure is sitting hunched over, his left arm resting on his knee and his hand trembling with cold. From a distance Steve can see that he is compulsively puffing on his cigarette, burning nicotine in his lungs as if there is no tomorrow. He has not noticed his presence and this is perhaps what Steve worries about the most because it means that he is absorbed in his own problems.

Under his breath, he hears his friend whispering something that makes his blood run cold.

…Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 62557...

"Buck!" Steve yells, and in other circumstances, his friend's jump would have seemed so funny, but now it's just another symptom of how scared he is.

“You fucking shitbag, Rogers!” He yells white as a sheet. He starts looking for the cigarette butt that has fallen to the ground with fright while his friend approaches.

"That language, Buck" he answers with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He needs to lighten the mood, get his friend out of the murky thoughts where he seems like he's been in for the last three hours. Bucky has already retrieved the cigar and made room for him to sit next to him for when Steve arrives.

"What, they've given you cat paws too? How can you be so quiet weighing two tons?" Buck grumbles. Steve sits next to him, leg to leg, shoulder to shoulder.

Bucky doesn't shy away from his touch and relief makes him grin like a bastard, his fears melting away like snow in the sun. "Maybe you don't just have deaf your nose, huh?" He hints sarcastically as he nudges Buck with his elbow.

Bucky snarls with humor, dropping his head and taking the opportunity to put his foot next to his friend's. "Jesus Stevie, what foot are you wearing now?" he asks, horrified. Steve shrinks his shoulders. He has put on what they have given him but he would be unable to guess his own size. He now looks at almost everyone from above, which is a positive change in his life “A 46? I don’t know, seriously”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, surprised "At least now your feet are in line with your desire to fight" he says casually. Steve smiles, but the shaking of the hand holding the cigarette and the nervous drag is not lost on him.

Damn, his fingers itch to comfort him

"What did the doctors tell you?" He asks, but Bucky looks up and looks directly at him with narrowed eyes “Come on, Stevie, you know perfectly well that I have not been to the infirmary” And yes, it’s true that he suspected. He doesn't insist because after all, a good part of the fault is his. He unconsciously looks at the place where he knows that his mating bond is, but it’s covered by the collar of his sweater and coat. His friend sighs loudly and rubs his hands over his face. He seems very tired.

“You should be resting at least. How long have you not slept?” Buck turns his head in a sudden movement and looks into his eyes, which for a few moments are two mirrors of terror. Even with the suppressants that Buck is wearing, Steve can smell the sour of fear and anxiety. "Who are you now? My mother? ”He snaps at him meanly, but Steve's face must do something because he immediately looks sorry. He looks down at his hands and fiddles with the spent cigarette butt.

"Hey, Buck, it's just me, okay? You don't have to pretend with me” Steve's hand moves without knowledge or consent and rests on the shoulder of his friend. Beneath him, Bucky trembles like a leaf.

“Yes, of course, it's only you who ate four of the old Stevies...” he says with a small voice to downplay the issue.

Steve's big hand gently strokes his back encouraging him to speak, but it seems his tongue has turned to stone.

"Buck, you're scaring me ..." Steve whispers. And it is true, the brunette may have run out of arguments to argue, but he has never run out of words. Steve can count on the fingers of one hand how many times he has been able to say the last word in a conversation.

"It's okay, I can't sleep" Bucky whispers. The confession has sapped what little energy he had left, shrugging. Steve notices the trembling increases under his hand and slowly raises his arm and rests it on Buck's shoulders, pressing him against his warm body and although he is a little stiff at first, he soon relaxes under his arm. "Tell me" Steve asks.

Bucky's body is still tense and trembling and for a while he doesn't say anything, he seems focused on getting his breath even. Steve's hand moves to play with the dark hair on the back of his neck, making him sigh. He recalls that it was often Buck himself who hugged and comforted him when he was the one who had nightmares as a child.

“I... it's like...” he seems like he's trying to explain something but he doesn't know the words to describe it. Steve doesn’t interrupt his speech but encourages him with touch, lightly carding his fingers on the skull and neck of his friend, massaging. Before long, Buck's head drifts slightly to unconsciously give him more space, and Steve's ego purrs with pleasure under this show of absolute confidence. He at least feels relaxed enough to loosen his tongue at last.

“I was kept isolated but there were... injections. They burned like hell” He licks his dry lips and swallows, heavy and nervous “It was terrifying to feel how the burning advanced through the veins and spread to all parts of the body. When it got to my head, I wanted to gouge my eyes out. I probably would have tried if I hadn't been tied up” Steve stops stroking him for a second, puzzled, but he quickly comes back to it to bring comfort to his friend.

“The first week I screamed so much that I lost my voice, and when they injected me with that shit again... I couldn't help but scream, but my neck hurt so much, Steve, as if it were raw, and still...” Bucky closes his eyes and leans some weight against Steve's warm body. Before speaking again, he lightly bites his lower lip.

“Then they started electrocuting me. My head... it was a mess. I was losing track of time and reality. Sometimes I didn't even know where I was. But...” Bucky opens his eyes without seeing, begins to breathe faster and Steve notices how his body tenses again.

“They didn't ask me anything. They never asked me, Steve ”Bucky throws his hands to his face, trying to block out the horror, separate the past from the present.

“They just give me a shot and saw me suffer while they took notes, I was a laboratory rat. They didn't even wonder if I had valuable information...” Steve thanks the anti-odor plasters, swallowing the anger he feels now.

"They started gagging me in electrocutions after biting my tongue for the second time..." And Steve can't contain himself anymore. He turns to his terrified friend and hugs him tightly, lifting him as if he were a small child, his arms wrapped around his torso and putting him in his lap. Steve, now leaning on the rock that two seconds ago was occupied by two people, buries Bucky's terrified face in his neck.

Buck briefly freaks out at being manipulated so easily. For an instant he's tempted to send Steve to hell; anyone who sees them now is going to think badly of them, but Bucky doesn't have the stomach to turn away from this comfort that his friend offers him, even less when he realizes that there are tears falling down his cheeks. He needs the security that he is providing. The relief of pulling the poison out of his mind as his alpha, his friend, holds him fiercely.

Steve notices how he returns the hug carefully as if he was still a 95-pound asthmatic kid. He rests his forehead on his broad, warm shoulder, and when he whispers again, he can feel his lips moving over the skin of his neck, giving him goosebumps.

“They beat me with a thin truncheon, but Zola was especially fond of the scalpel...” Steve feels a strong protective instinct, to shield his mate with his own body and fill him with comforting pheromones. To show him that he is safe now. He thinks of the stench of poorly buried bodies in the prison camp and squeezes even tighter on Buck who has started to gasp, trying to control the overflowing emotion. His body shudders and trembles in his arms.

“When I close my eyes I see their faces, Stevie. Watching me while they write things down on the clipboard, and...” a ragged sob takes the air out of his lungs and he gasps trying to hold enough to continue “...and grab the baton or the scalpel, or the ... syringe or...”

What an idiot he has been, Steve thinks as he kisses his terrified friend's temple and cradles him trying to comfort him. How ignorant, being afraid of losing Bucky when he has never needed the closeness of his best friend more than now.

“Shhhh, relax Buck, they can't hurt you anymore. You're safe now” he tries to reassure him with a low but sure voice “I won't let them touch you again, I swear” Bucky nods on his neck silently as he continues to fight back tears.

The alpha's heart pounds in his chest hard, outraged and sorry. They got away, that bastards. They escaped him, but those who have dared to touch his friend are going to pay, he thinks totally determined. He needs a team to help him hunt down those damn bastards. Trustworthy and competent people, victims who want their chance for revenge, committed to the cause.

A pack, his brain supplies him. A family with a common goal.

Unit 107th is full of potential applicants, and while he doesn't know them well enough, Sergeant Barnes seems to have a good eye for selecting the best candidates. After all, he will need to work with people that his omega is comfortable with, too.

In case he decides to stay.

He rubs his cheeks against Bucky's face and neck in a show of familiar affection as he continues to stroke him. Little by little it seems that his breathing is calming down, and even the tremors are disappearing.

They start moving towards the camp after a long time, when it starts to drizzle. Bucky looks totally exhausted with puffy eyes and nose. He has some trouble seeing where they're stepping in the dark, but that doesn't stop him from bark out Steve when he suggests carrying him on his back.

Tomorrow will be another day.

Tomorrow he will talk to Bucky about the information that might be useful to Colonel Phillips, and hopefully, he will bring up the idea of creating a pack without Bucky throwing something over his head.

But today his only goal is to make Bucky sleep in peace. And if he has to sit next to his bunk, so be it.


	9. Captain America

“These are the weapon factories we know about. Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts to another facility that isn’t on this map” Steve reports. He is making it clear to Colonel Phillips that he is a capable man and not reckless as he thinks. He has tactfully gotten the information from Bucky and his friend has cooperated in any way possible. He doesn't smile in spite he has won this round.

“Agent Carter, coordinate with MI6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base” orders the Colonel.

"What about us?" Asks Peggy. She is not a woman made to be bored, but Colonel Phillips' response pleases her because there is a new twinkle in her eyes. Steve admires her, he can't help but notice her pronounced curves, her beautiful lips.

The cunning look of her.

Fixed on him.

But Phillips brings him back to reality “We are going to set a fire under Johan Schmidt’s ass. What do you say, Rogers? It’s your map. You think you can wipe Hydra off it?” Oh yeah, Steve expected him to ask that.

“Yes, sir. I’ll need a team…” and he already has one in mind.

“We’re already putting together the best men” the confident old alpha gazes at him with enthusiasm. But Steve is not going to be a puppet in his hands. He is going to carry out the mission on his own terms.

“With all due respect, sir, I’m looking for a pack” he says with total seriousness. The Colonel and Peggy look at him in surprise, jaws drop. It’s not the preferred composition of civilized people; those who are grouped in herds today are often criminals, mobs, and gangs. But at the end of the day that’s what they are going to be, a small gang of guerrillas who are going to sabotage Hydra's plans until they hunt down Schmidt and his protégé Zola. He doesn't need to work with a team of strangers who will be more on the lookout for Phillips' grunts. He needs to work with people he can trust.

Family.

He crosses his arms and takes a stiff, stretched stance, ready to argue. He's not going to lose this round either.

.oOo.

The bar is packed with people. Tobacco and alcohol weigh on the environment like a shawl, drowning out personal fragrances. It is almost preferable because there are little space and a lot of testosterone; practically all are soldiers and at least half of them, alphas. Fortunately, there is beer for everyone and a good mood reigns.

The waiters can't keep up, serving beer, whiskey, and gin like water. It is a day of celebration in London. Anywhere in the world it should be, Hitler got his ass kicked this week and every victory counts.

Steve is sitting at a round, varnished table with five men who sparkle and smile like wolves. He knows his faces, he has rescued them from the Azzano prison camp, but without a doubt, the red-haired mustache and the bowler hat are ... unforgettable.

“So… let’s get this straight” the red-haired alpha begins to speak although he is quickly interrupted.

“We barely got out of there alive, and you want us to go back?” Gabriel Jones asks incredulously. The man is a dark-skinned beta, almost as big as the alpha next to him, but with soft features and kind eyes. He speaks several languages and fumbles through many others, including German. Bucky has already warned him that winning them will not require much persuasion, but he will have to pose it as a challenge. Something daring.

“Sounds rather fun, actually” says James Montgomery Falsworth. The beta lieutenant is a calm, tall and thin man with a characteristic mustache. A career military man and an expert in military tactics under Her Majesty the Queen, he doesn't seem to have any qualms about joining a pack if that takes down the enemy.

From the back of the table, the representative from Fresno belches loudly “I'm in”

James Morita is a man with Asian features, few words, and even less height, but brave and with indispensable knowledge in medicine.

Jacques Dernier and Gabriel Jones speak fast and lively French and join the party “We're in!” Steve takes notes about learning some of the language because the native of France doesn't seem to have an interest in speaking English...

Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan's small, lively eyes shine brightly and he grins with all his teeth. He is imposing and at the same time endearing. "Hell. I’ll always fight, but you got to do one thing for me" he says, stroking his mustache. "Open a tab" he sentenced, raising his large empty beer mug. Steve smiles because yeah, that's something he can do. If they go into the jaws of the enemy they willingly have well earned it. Then he goes to the counter where his friend is.

Bucky already has a few drinks on his body. It shows in the open uniform, the missing tie, and the silly smile. Bucky is a lovely drinker, when he gets drunk he is all smiles and joy. With his hair slightly tousled and finally shaving, Steve realizes how attractive he is, how young he seems compared to the future members of his pack.

No one would say that he was a three-time welterweight boxing champion before entering the military, he thinks while the piano sounds in the background and people are encouraged to sing a popular song.

The warm and very light fragrance of apples, cinnamon, and alcohol reaches him despite the smoke. It's like being back at the Brooklyn apartment, Buck coming back from a ballroom drunk and giggling, singing some romantic song softly before collapsing on the couch to sleep off the hook. Steve had to convince him to get to bed and he didn't always succeed; dragging him to it was not an option back then.

Bucky interrupts his train of thought. "See? I told you, they are all idiots” he says as he takes another drink of whiskey. He seems to have decided that he can spend all the salary earned in Azzano on good alcohol. Steve retrieves the glass that he had left on the bar to talk to the men.

“How about you? You’re ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” asks Steve. Bucky should feel comfortable around these people. With him.

“Hell no” Bucky says without looking at him, taking another drink of his whiskey. Steve notices his heart stop for a second, but Buck picks up the conversation again "That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him” he says with a silly smile on his face and blinking gently. Steve smiles and drinks, his chest swelling with something warm and selfish at the same time.

"But you’re keeping the outfit, right?” Bucky says suggestively with a crooked smile. He's an idiot, Steve thinks. “You know what? It’s kind of growing on me” he affirms as he takes a look at the poster announcing the cancellation of the Captain America tour.

He has also been awarded the medal of valor and has powerful politicians on his side who will defend him long enough to have a broad arm in his actions, as long as he wins battles and the approval of the public.

People stop singing and the music also stops. They briefly wonder what happened until Agent Carter waddles in, and she stands in front of Steve. Had we talked about a gold sequin dress? Let's erase it, red is the color that best dresses her without any doubt, the neckline suggesting generous breasts and wrapping around his waist. In high heels and a small bag, Peggy knows everything she takes to seduce a man.

“Captain” she introduces herself.

“Agent Carter” Steve answers as he watches how Bucky sees her come in and gives him a good... review of his figure before looking up at just the right moment so as not to look like a pig. He smiles as he greets her, but she barely looks at him, all her attention is focused on Steve.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” Asks Peggy knowing the impact she has caused on the blond alpha.

"Sounds good" Steve answers.

“I see your squad is preparing for duty” says Carter with the intention of engaging in some kind of conversation. Bucky thinks his friend hasn't even heard the words. Steve is not immune to the Agent's charms, of course; the slightly drooping lip in astonishment and the restlessness in his eyes, that he doesn't know where to look without appearing unseemly or outright cheeky give him the clue that his competitor is winning the battle.

What competitor? Damn it! A stunning woman looks at Steve like he's a lake in the desert. Bucky has no right to be mean. The bond meant nothing to Steve, to either of them, so he crushes the jealousy that burns in his gut. For all the times he was ignored, Steve deserves this. Bucky isn't going to get in the way.

“You don’t like music?” Bucky asks, soft and easy for the alcohol.

“I do, actually. I might even, when this is all over, go dancing” says Carter without taking his eyes off Steve for a single second.

Steve, do you get it? She is proposing you a date... but Steve is enthralled by the views. He doesn't blame him, she has one of the most impressive bodies he's ever seen.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Because damn it, she gets goosebumps just thinking about leaving them alone. If this has to end this pair sharing fluids, at least not right under his nose. His heart won't resist.

“The right partner. 08:00 Captain”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there” he answers as he watches him go. She hasn't designed to look at Bucky once.

“I'm invisible... I'm turning into you!” Buck says to his friend while he puts on a crooked smile “It’s like a horrible dream...” he exaggerates her with humor, but there is something hurt inside him. He has been totally ignored as if he were a vase. He wonders how many times little Steve has found himself in this situation because his pride hurts like a stab.

“Don't take it so hard. Maybe she’s got a friend” Steve says smiling because the poor fool has not realized anything. The last words feel like an ax blow to Bucky's heart. If he has a friend, he better be an alpha with a good cock, damn his luck...

.oOo.

Two hours later at the bar, the future pack is drinking as if there were no tomorrow.

“Howling Commands? Bengal lions. No wait, the Bengals are the tigers. The Bengal Tigers” says Jones. Despite how drunk he is, he does not show a single symptom in the pronunciation of the words. Steve is impressed. He hardly translates anymore for Dernier, who seems the least drunk of all. Steve, who has drunk as much as Bucky, doesn't feel the slightest hint of drunkenness; his friend, on the other hand, is sozzled.

“We all know it should be called James' Squad, or JameSquad. Only a James will be accepted into the unit, so guys, I'm afraid you'll have to change your names...” Bucky giggles at his own joke. For those coincidences of life, in the squad of 7 people, 3 are called James. James Morita "Jim", James Montgomery Falsworth "Monty", and James Buchanan Barnes "Bucky" raise their glasses and toast, dumping half the content on the way. Now that the alcohol has released his tongue, there is nothing to silence Bucky “In fact, I propose that from now on our Captain is called Jamesteve Rogers, and Dum Dum ... uh, Dum ... Dames? - Steve covers his mouth before he goes on talking stupid things. Unfortunately, the others have loved it and continue with the joke “Only if Jones changes his name to Jambriel” Dum Dum proposes with a big smile and nudges his friend, whose eyes widened “Oh My God, I love it!” he shouts laughing “I think I'm going to change my name on the birth certificate right now” he says as he gets up to go to the bathroom. Just before starting to walk, he turns his attention to the half-finished jug, grabs it, and empties it with a single attack “in the pack we will be brothers, but not sillies” he sentences laughing as he disappears into the crowd. Steve takes his hand away from Bucky's mouth in surprise, he just got licked and Bucky looks at him as he licks his pink lips.

“Bucky...” he complains as he wipes his hand on his pants, but his friend just keeps laughing.

“Yeah, now everyone laughs your head off but you will see everyone's faces tomorrow when here the Captain begins to integrate us as his pack. More than one is going to cry...” says Jim, catching the attention of the entire table. “Come on... you mean it's painful?” Monty asks curiously. Nobody really has much knowledge about packs. Perhaps the best informed is Bucky, from his days as a dockworker.

Bucky inhales before speaking, the alcohol has affected him a lot “It was the most typical family composition before...” he makes a vague gesture with his hand “... we get individualized so much. The packs were extended families that included grandparents, parents, uncles, close friends, and their families. A good part was related by blood, but not all” Jim nods and assists him “Yes, the packs could be of 30 or 40 people. The advantages are many, such as total loyalty, joint efforts, sharing resources... they say that the mafia is nothing more than ancient packs that triumphed in a big way” he interrupts to finish the big mug of beer in his hands and plant it on the table with a loud bang.

"Let me order a round before continuing" says Buck, but as soon as he gets up and takes a step towards the bar, he trips over his own feet and it is just a coincidence that he doesn’t open his head with one of the stools. He stands up awkwardly and when he checks that he is okay Steve is already next to him grabbing his arm to help him keep his balance. He looks at him for a moment before smiling, and raises his arm before the table "I'm fine!"

The table claps and whistles for him, as if he has just broken the Olympic record in the high jump. Bucky laughs silly and sweet because he is an adorable clown.

Steve smiles too. It’s funny, he can't help it, but he's in no condition to drink any more or he'll end up throwing up the stomach. “Commands, see you tomorrow. I take Bucky before he falls asleep on the table” And they all cry out.

“Oh, come on Stevie, one more drink...” his friend begs him. “Bucky, tomorrow you will regret all those drinks” he says while he holds him by the arm.

“That's a problem for Tomorrow's Bucky, but right now...” he turns around quickly, grabs the first glass he finds on the bar, and toasts “For the Howling Commandos !!” he drinks it in a gulp while the others raise their half-empty glasses and toast too. Bucky lifts it triumphantly in the face of Steve and the Commandos with a grimace, but immediately smiles smugly and yells, "Sergeant 1, Captain 0!" and before the applause and whistles of his table, he bends making a very theatrical and unbalanced bow. Steve rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. He will never be able to say the last word again... until the owner of the drink that has just disappeared down Bucky's throat appears, a huge alpha, how could it be otherwise?

“That was my whiskey, you bastard...”

The Captain quickly intervenes, putting himself between him and Bucky with his hands up in a totally pacifying gesture "The next round is on my account, sir" he informs him smiling as he puts his hands on Buck's shoulders and guides him firmly to the exit, barely saying goodbye to his pack.

The air outside is a cold and light drizzle. The streets are already wet and there are puddles that reflect the lights of the streetlights. London is very cosmopolitan and at the same time smells of old stone, garbage, and dampness. As they walk through the streets, Buck starts singing in a whisper, soft and somewhat out of step.

_This day and age we're living_ _  
This cause for apprehension  
This speed and new invention  
And things like third dimension  
Yet we get a trifle weary  
With Mr. Einstein's Theory_

The very fool puts his arm around Steve's shoulders, something so typical and so distant at the same time that the alpha's heart shudders. Buck looks at him, smiling expectantly “Come on, Stevie, you know it too” and Steve smiles and sings with him because the relaxed and happy atmosphere has also permeated him.

_For we must get down to earth at time_   
_Relax, relieve the tension_   
  
_No matter what the progress of what may have improved,_   
_The simple facts of life are such, they cannot be removed_

Bucky snaps his fingers from time to time, or at least he tries. Steve on the other hand keeps a hand on Bucky's back because he is more and more stagger.

  
_You must remember this_   
_A kiss is still a kiss_   
_A sigh is just a sigh_   
_The fundamental things apply as time goes by..._

Buck clears his throat and stops. “You know? Today I'm going to sleep like a baby” He affirms, and Steve understands what he means. He has witnessed the night that Bucky spent when he couldn't take it anymore and he vomited all his fears and trauma at his friend. He lent him his Captain's bunk that gave him certain privacy with the promise of waking him up a couple of hours later while he was arranging some reports. Soon he was asleep, exhausted. It wasn't long before Buck's eyelids began to move restlessly and his breath hitched. Steve doubted for a moment until he heard a little yelp of fear. He immediately took Bucky's hand, stroking him in a reassuring way and stroking his hair lovingly and carefully. He got him to rest all night and the next morning he seemed to have been resurrected. Since then they have been sharing a room or barracks without much resistance from his friend.

That shows how exhausted he is.

Fortunately, they arrive at the hostel where they are staying just when it starts to rain heavily. Climbing the stairs becomes a challenge with Buck in front of everything, and they finally arrive at their door. Two beds, a couple of trunks, and a nightstand with a lamp are all they have. They don't need more either, they are passing through this city and will soon be in knee-deep mud, so they'll take whatever they can get.

That's if Bucky doesn't kill himself on the way, Steve thinks as his friend stumbles over the small rug that separates the two beds. The alpha grabs him cautiously by the arms to balance him and Bucky blinks like an owl, smiling "Good reflexes, Stevie..." he congratulates him as he begins to unbutton his jacket. Steve sighs and rolls his eyes.

Five minutes later Steve is already in his undershirt and boxer shorts while Bucky continues to fight with the buttons swearing like a trooper. “Let me help you with that, you're making me nervous” says the blonde, repositioning his bangs.

Bucky straightens up a bit and leans against the wall to maintain his posture. "Yes, my Captain" he smiles as he raises an eyebrow. Steve sits him down on the bed when he finishes with the buttons to help him with the shoes. "Like the old days, huh?" He says as he takes off his jacket and sweater and stays in his undershirt while Steve starts to untie his boots. The mild apple muffin smell hits him more intensely now, but he's still light, almost imperceptible.

The undershirt shows the mating bond at the base of the neck. It is no longer inflamed, although it retains some of the pink colors of a healing wound. His hand moves without realizing it but stops it midway when he notices. He looks at his friend, his eyes bright and half-closed from the stupor of alcohol but looking at him attentively.

"Touch it" he says. Steve's eyes drift back to where the mark is, and he returns to Buck's face without moving a muscle, unsure.

“Touch it, it's yours” he says smiling this time. “I know you've been looking for it” he moves to make it more accessible, turning his shoulder and neck, showing him the jugular. Steve's breath is caught for a moment before the beauty and submission of the gesture. His hand moves up to his neck and gently caresses the mark with his fingers. It has some relief and is warmer than the rest of the neck. The sensation of the touch of it raises his heart in his chest inexplicably.

Bucky's hand rests on the back of Steve's neck and brings him closer, cheek to cheek, lips almost brushing the sensitive shell of his ear. Now the scent of his partner is fully discernible. Steve smells his vanilla on him, and alcohol and tobacco on his skin. "Easy, Stevie" he whispers in his ear, his breath so close that he gives him goosebumps. "I promise you what we had in Brooklyn" the brunette sentenced as he rests his chin on the broad shoulder of his friend, his lover for one night. With that promise, he is giving him everything. Unquestionable loyalty; the friendship that lasts a lifetime.

The freedom to find another partner.

Quickly Buck is caught in a monumental embrace, Steve hovers and buries his face in his neck.

The alpha closes his eyes because he is about to cry. Isn't this a good man? He thinks as Buck hugs him too and pats him on the back. "Until the end of the line?" He asks uncertainly.

Bucky groans on his shoulder, amused. “Of course, pal. With you until the end of the line” And he squeezes him even more.

Buck stays. Buck stays and is not going to disappear from his life. He has not recriminated anything.

Steve can't ask for more. He simply cannot take more than what he has already offered.

He has no right.

The hand covers the mating bond while the fingers gently massage it in circles. "I promise you what we had in Brooklyn, too" he whispers to him as well. It is the least that Bucky has the right to receive even though the alpha's heart is split in two.

When they part, Buck looks at him and smirks. “Will you polish my shoes again? I foresee a lot of mud in them...” and Steve rolls his eyes. There is no way to have a serious conversation with the drunken version of Buck. He laughs a bit as he takes off his pants and gets into bed with his back to him. The bond is visible from Steve's pillow; he doesn't know if he did it on purpose, but it gives him a great feeling of warmth to have him in sight. He turns off the bedside light and wishes him good night, yet Buck is already fast asleep.

As Steve is lying looking at the play of light and shadow that filter through the window and reflect on the wall, his heart seems... anxious as he hums the song they had been singing in the street. He can't help but think he's missing something.

_And when two lovers woo  
They still say "I love you"  
On that you can rely  
No matter what the future brings, as time goes by  
  
Moonlight and love songs never out of date  
Hearts full of passion, jealousy, and hate  
Females need males, and a male must have his mate  
That no one can deny  
  
It's still the same old story  
A fight for love and glory  
A case of do or die  
The world will always welcome lovers as time goes by_

He wishes he could sleep in the same bed as Bucky in a fit of longing and possessiveness. That he rejected him as his alpha...

He knows that he must accept the decision of his friend, but at the same time, he feels that he cannot allow another alpha to take him. Steve needs to make it clear that Buck is unavailable, but he can't. He must not.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow he will have all the excuses in the world to mark him as his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A penny for your thoughts?


End file.
